


Journeyman

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Maiden (Band), Rock Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Male Slash, Male/, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In seventeenth century England the profession of wandering minstral is on the wane, yet it is the life Janick Gers has chosen for himself.  That is, until he assists a matronly nobelwoman on the road and takes on a position as an employee on her estate.  Her dissolute stepson Bruce, however, objects to taking on the young minstral, unaware at first of how Janick's arrival will change the very course of his life.





	Journeyman

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate universe and complete fiction, written out of my great respect and admiration for the men whose identities I have based my characters upon. I claim no rights to these identities, real or implied, and earn no profit from my works.

Janick:

I walked on, my mind at peace, enjoying a rare fine day for an early English spring. I didn't know where I was heading, didn't know where I would spend the oncoming night, but this was not unusual and I did not worry over it. I am a minstrel, a wandering musician. My only belongings are a small sack of food, a skin of water, and a heavier jacket which I kept rolled into a makeshift pack slung behind his back. My most prized possession, my cittern, I carried carefully wrapped in soft wool, slung over my shoulders by a leather strap.  
I wasn't always a wanderer. Three years ago, when I was twenty years old, my Father died. My Mother had died when I was a small child and Father was all I had. He had been a sailor until his arthritis had become so bad he could no longer climb the rigging. He worked dockside after that, carefully noting the various cargo as it arrived, proud of his mastery of the English language as he had been born a Pole. He had met my Mother while staying at in the inn her father owned on England's northeast coast, and they married. A year later I was born, but then Mother grew ill and died. I grew up with Mother's parents while Father had been at sea and that was where I learned my love of music. I learned to play the dulcimer, lute, and the psaltery by the time I was ten but it wasn't until a stranger from Spain came to the inn with a cittar, which he called a guitar, that I knew I had found my life's passion. Then the same disease that took my Father decimated my mother's family as well, and my music was literally all I had left. And now it was my livelihood. I played at taverns and Inns for beer, food and a night's lodging and every once in a while a merchant or minor nobleman hired me for a week or two, but for the most part I was on my own and that was how I liked it.  
I was heading east from Manchester, it was as good a direction as any. I had done fairly well in the city and my pack was full of food and a bit of silver, but I had felt suffocated. The wooded path I now followed brought peace to my soul and I found myself singing as I walked. I do not generally sing, preferring to play, but there were none here to hear me aside from squirrels and birds. And perhaps robbers, but I doubted very much if I had anything to fear there, I looked too poor to attract their attention with my unkempt long dark blonde hair and nondescript homespun tunic and breeches. 

The shadows were lengthening and I was starting to look for a spot off the main pathway with a little shelter, perhaps under an evergreen tree or an overhanging hedge to spend the night, when I thought I heard a sound that didn't quite fit in with the surroundings. I had just thrown an apple core into the brush but that wasn't what I heard, I heard faint voices some distance further up the trail. Having traveled for a few years now I knew to be cautious, so I moved to the edge of the trail and kept to the shadows, moving forward quietly. I can move very silently when I want to. Around a slight turn in the road I was a bit taken aback to see a coach with a broken wheel. It had once been a fine vehicle but now the wood was scarred and faded and obviously it had not been well maintained, seeing as it was broken down. Next to it stood an older woman, her hair iron gray and done up in a simple style unlike so many women these days. Her attire was like the coach, once fine but now showing signs of wear. Kneeling next to the broken wheel was an even older man in the garb of a coachman, and he was attempting to raise the coach far enough to remove the wheel. Seeing him struggle to get his shoulder beneath the vehicle, I cast aside all caution and stepped forward.  
"Hail, my good man! Can I be of assistance?"  
They both jumped slightly but upon seeing I was just one man they seemed to relax, though the woman still wore a worried look and was wringing her hands.  
"That would be much appreciated, friend, and I thank you!" The old man said, relief in his voice. He rose with some difficulty but extended his hand in greeting after wiping it on his pants leg. Within a few minutes I located a suitable branch in the nearby woods and a block of wood to serve as a fulcrum. Between us we raised the coach far enough to remove the wheel. It was growing dark and the woman, having relaxed now, lit a lamp and held it over us as we examined the damage. Fortunately, it was just a split in the old, dried wood and I temporarily mended it by wrapping some catgut tightly around it that I kept in my pack as replacement strings for my instrument. It wouldn't hold long, but it should serve to get them home.  
For the first time, the lady spoke directly to me. "I cannot tell you how pleased we are that you came along, young man. You must let me repay you in some way for your assistance."  
"That isn't necessary, madam. I was glad to be of help."  
"Oh please, young man....what is your name, if I may ask?"  
"Janick, ma'am. Janick Gers"  
"Please let us at least offer you accommodation for the night. Our home is not far."  
My first instinct was to politely refuse, but it was dark now and growing quite cold. "I would appreciate that, ma'am."  
"I am Lady Dickinson," The lady bowed her head , "and this is my faithful servant Arthur."  
At that, Arthur spoke up. "Climb on up, young Janick. We've only a few miles to go."  
After assisting the Lady Dickinson back into the carriage, Arthur motioned for me to sit with him as he grabbed the reins and maneuvered the coach carefully down the rutted, uneven road, careful to avoid any stress on the broken wheel. Within a few minutes I saw lights ahead and Arthur steered the coach between high stone pillars and down a somewhat rough drive to pull up in front of a large but old open-timbered home. Dim lamps were burning at each side of the double doors and as Arthur helped Lady Dickinson out, a middle aged lady emerged from the door. From her demeanor I gathered she was the housekeeper. The remainder of the house was dark, with only a few lights glowing through thick, leaded windows.  
Lady Dickinson spoke cordially introducing me to the housekeeper. "Master Gers,, this is Agnes. She will show you to a room where you can wash up and be comfortable. We will have a late dinner sent up to you presently."  
This was unexpected. Even when I was employed by wealthier persons I was generally allotted a bunk in the servant's quarters, sometimes in the barn or coach house.  
"No need to go to all that trouble, milady" I told her, looking down at my boots because I was a little embarrassed by her kindness. "I have food in my pack and I will happily take shelter in the stables."  
"Nonsense!" She sounded more determined than I had yet heard her. She seemed a very quiet lady. "If it weren't for you we would still be out there. My stepson may have found us if he were to return from town tonight but it's unlikely that he will be back until tomorrow. If even then." she added, almost as if to herself.  
I couldn't find it in me to turn down her generosity, she had a very kind and gentle way about her and I sensed that if I were to argue further it would upset her. Arthur took a valise and escorted Lady Dickinson inside and I followed Agnes inside. The interior of the house was unexpectedly cold and smelled old even though it appeared scrupulously clean in the light of the lantern the housekeeper carried. She led me along a corridor and through a large kitchen area, almost pitch black around the feeble light of her lamp, and down what was obviously a hall to a servants wing.  
Agnes was quiet but I sensed no hostility from her so I ventured to ask if there were many servants here.  
"Oh my, no, not since his Lordship died. That was, oh, some ten years ago now. We have a cook, five maids, a gardener, and two groundskeepers. Other than that there's just myself, Arthur, the stableman Gerard, her Ladyship and.....the young Master."  
There was an odd note in her voice as she mentioned him. I guessed that he must be the stepson her ladyship had referred to, but I didn't comment. I was shown to a chamber rather larger than I expected for a servants room and Agnes lit two lamps from her own, then started to lay a fire.  
"Oh you don't need to do that, ma'am" I told her quickly. "I can start the fire."  
That got a smile from her and she stood again. "You need not call me ma'am, I'm simply Agnes."  
I returned the smile. "Thank you, Agnes, but I'll be quite well on my own."  
"Nevertheless, I will bring you a tray of food shortly. I'm afraid it will be no more than cold beef and some cheese."  
"That is very generous of you. Thank you."  
She left then and within a few minutes I had a fire burning brightly in the small hearth. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, the ropes recently tightened and the straw in the mattress crisp and fresh scented. For such a short-staffed house, they did remarkably well. I had played in baronial mansions less meticulously cared for. I lay on the bed and had almost dozed off when a soft knock sounded. Agnes brought me a tray of food, as she had promised, and in spite of my having eaten some fruit earlier I was famished and finished it off quickly. I fell asleep almost immediately after I blew out the lamps. At some point during the night I was half awakened by the clatter of hoof beats in the stone courtyard outside the room's narrow window but I merely rolled over and went back to sleep.

It was always my habit to awaken soon after sunrise and when I opened my eyes it took me a moment to realize where I was. In the brighter light the room looked even more inviting than the night before, the stone walls flat and clean and the high ceiling free of cobwebs. It was sparsely furnished with only the bed, a chair, and a row of hooks for hanging clothes, but I went straight to the window and looked out. A broad stone courtyard separated the servant's wing from the stables and even now I saw Arthur out by the stable door talking to another man I assumed to be the stableman as he was pushing a cart of manure. I ran my fingers through my long hair, straightened my clothes, and attempted to find my way outside to speak to Arthur. He had been kind and I wanted to ask him how far a walk it was to the next town.  
This wasn't as easy as it seemed. The corridor outside my room wasn't long but when I reached the kitchen I was immediately pounced upon by Agnes who insisted I sit and eat. I wasn't used to eating so much or so often but to be polite I accepted, taking minimal portions of the eggs and sausages she offered me. She was more garrulous this morning, chattering on about how the chickens hadn't been laying well and how high the price of ham was at the local market. I took the opportunity to ask her where the market was and if it was a town large enough to have any opportunities for a minstrel such as myself.  
"Oh, you aren't leaving yet are you, Master Janick? Her ladyship specifically asked if I would send you to her after breakfast."  
"I had planned to be on my way," I told her, "but I'll certainly stay to speak to her ladyship."  
"Wonderful!" Agnes beamed. "I will be bringing her breakfast up shortly, so in an hour or so if you wouldn't mind, come back here and I'll show you to her morning room."  
I agreed, curious as to why the lady of the house would want to see me. If she intended to offer me a reward for my helping them the night before I would feel obligated to refuse. I had acted out of kindness and would feel badly accepting a reward.  
Once Agnes left with young girl I took to be a maid, I found my way outside at last and located Arthur in the stable, mending the carriage wheel more permanently. Without asking, I pitched in and helped him. I had learned many such handy tasks growing up at my Grandparent's inn. He was a jovial old man and the job was finished quickly, so I was back in the kitchens at the appointed time. Agnes was instructing a scullery maid in cleaning up but when I entered she came over.  
"Her ladyship is ready to see you, but I'm afraid Master Bruce arrived home late last night and is with her."  
Those must have been the hoof beats I had heard, but I wondered why everyone used that particular tone of voice when referring to this Bruce character.  
"Umm.....is that a problem? Should I wait until later to see her?"  
"Oh, no, she asked me to bring you right up."  
Emboldened by Agnes's willingness to talk, I had to ask. "This Master Bruce, is he the Lord now? You mentioned that her ladyship's husband has passed on."  
"Well...it's rather complicated, you see." Agnes was starting to lead me through the house now so she kept her tone low, walking close so I could hear her. "Master Bruce isn't actually his Lordship's son, by blood. How do I explain this? The Lord and her Ladyship had no children of their own. Almost twenty years ago, however, they found a young boy stealing eggs in the chicken house. Eggs had been disappearing for a week or so and his Lordship hid out there one night, hoping to catch the thief. What he caught, however, was a half-starved five year old orphan boy who had been scavenging just enough food to live on. And if you think her ladyship is kind, his Lordship was saint. He took the boy in, gave him a home, fed and clothed and educated him. That is our Master Bruce. " Agnes's voice lowered even more so I had to strain to hear her as we climbed the grand staircase.  
"Both his lordship and Lady Dickinson doted on the boy, but when his Lordship died, something changed in Master Bruce. He became wild, disobedient, and wilful. After leaving school he came home but all he cares about is drinking and wenching. Her ladyship worries herself sick over him. I shouldn't be saying this," Agnes leaned toward me conspiratorially, "but the room you stayed in last night belonged to our upstairs maid, who left a month ago after Master Bruce...ah, got her in trouble."  
Well, that explained why the room was so well cared for and clean, I reflected. It hadn't been long vacant. I was already prepared to dislike this Master Bruce. We arrived at a door at the head of the stairs then and Agnes knocked discreetly. I heard Lady Dickinson tell us to enter, and I followed Agnes inside.  
The so-called morning room was lovely, though one could see the curtains and furniture showed signs of age and wear. Lady Dickinson sat on a divan but my eyes were drawn to the man who stood at the window, his back to us, deliberately ignoring us. All I could see from behind was long, straight chestnut hair hanging halfway down his back and a compact, well muscled frame dressed in riding clothes.  
"Good morn, Lady Dickinson" I greeted the lady, who returned the greeting with a smile. The man still didn't turn so I ignored him,coming before the lady and bowing.  
"Good morn, Master Gers. I wanted to inquire as to your plans."  
"I intend to continue my journey today ma'am, with many thanks for your hospitality last night."  
The lady nodded as though she had been expecting me to say that. "Have you a destination, may I ask? Some employment you are seeking, perhaps?"  
I shook my head. "My music is my employment and my destination is any place where I can earn some coin by playing."  
"You seem to know a bit about general repairs and maintenance, I've noted. I have a proposal for you, if you would consider it."  
I looked at her inquiringly, and she continued. "As you have seen, my brougham is in need of refurbishment. Not merely the wheels but the entire vehicle needs the wood replaced in sections. I also have a landau which hasn't been used in some time that needs attention. I'm prepared to offer you room and board in exchange for your assisting Arthur in these repairs and any other tasks he finds difficult to perform at his advanced age."  
I was taken by surprise by her offer and didn't know what to say. The prospect of a warm bed and regular meals was very tempting indeed. Still, I felt myself reluctant to accept.  
"Thank you for your generous offer, milady, but....I'm a minstrel by trade"  
"Yes, I realize that, of course. I would also ask you to entertain me as I dine in the evenings on occasion, and my son as well when he is at home."  
I saw the shoulders of the man by the window twitch. He was pretending detachment but obviously listening to the conversation very carefully.  
I thought about it briefly, then nodded, bowing to Lady Dickinson. "In that case, I would be honored to be in your employ for a time, ma'am."

 

Bruce:

Upon hearing my mother - for I called her such though she had not given birth to me - offer employment to this vagabond, I whirled. I had been trying to distance myself from the entire exchange, my head was pounding from the ale I had overindulged in the night before and I was distracted by the scent of cheap perfume remaining in my hair from the nameless slut I'd been with at the brothel. For the first time I looked at this stranger, this minstrel as he called himself.  
He looked nothing at all as I had pictured him. His voice had been soft and his accent northern so I pictured him as a ragged, meek soul somewhat worse for wear. Instead I was faced with a tall young man of approximately my own age with long, wavy hair the color of honey and a straight, slim form. When I turned, he looked at me with eyes the color of stormy summer skies but there was no fear or trepidation in his gaze, only curiosity. For some reason, this angered me.  
"Mother, you cannot be seriously entertaining the idea of allowing this wastrel to stay in our home! He is of no use to us, Arthur and Gerard can do any work required of them!"  
Mother looked at me, her eyes kind as always but her expression resolute. "The decision is made, Bruce. Master Gers has accepted the offer and there is nothing more to be said."  
"And I get no say in it whatsoever! How typical!"  
Mother's gaze hardened a bit. "You are aware that both Arthur and Gerard are well past the age of sixty. Perhaps if you paid more mind to maintaining the estate and less to the taverns and wenches, we would not need the extra help. "  
It was an old subject between us and had been a source of contention since the death of Father. He had passed suddenly in a riding mishap and only afterwards did we discover that no provisions had been made for me. I had never been legally adopted so I inherited nothing more than the right to live on the estate for the remainder of my life and a small stipend for spending money. I was only twelve when he passed and I had been filled with anger and resentment. I learned to deal with it, but I still felt no obligation to put forth any work into an estate that was not my own. I saw myself as a mere ward here, a charity case, and though I cared for Mother, it was Father I had been closest to. He had taught me to read and write, to ride, to shoot, and sent me off to a fine school where I discovered my penchant for fencing. Sadly, one could not make a living by fencing no matter how skilled I was, so I had little choice but to return home. And now Mother was taking in another, much as she and Father had taken me in do many years ago. Realistically, I knew it wasn't unusual to offer temporary work to a stranger but my more volatile nature rebelled against it and, beneath it all, was the realization that if this man had not chanced to come by my Mother and Arthur would have either had to walk several miles home or spend the night in the broken carriage. I had not been there for them, I had been in town doing things I prayed Mother would never know of. For I not only visited the traditional brothels, I sometimes ventured as far as Birmingham to seek less conventional amusements in Molly Houses, places that catered to those like myself who sometimes felt the need of the company of young men. I suspected Father knew I was leaning toward that predilection even at that tender age and he didn't chastise me for it, even when discovering me with a young stable boy in a compromising position, but Mother would be horrified.  
These thoughts raced through my mind as I looked upon this minstrel, and for some reason my gaze lingered on his slim hips and long legs encased in roughly woven but tight fitting breeches. And this angered me even more. I crossed my arms and glared at the young man, which did not seem to intimidate him a bit.  
Mother continued speaking to him, paying no mind to my obvious disapproval.  
"You can remain in the chamber where you slept last night, and you will be at Arthur's disposal. Gerard is our stableman and he and the gardeners may have tasks for you as well. I realize that you aren't interested in a permanent position here, but you are free to stay as long as you like and as long as you can be of assistance. The work will not be hard, and I look very forward to some entertainment over dinner. It has been so long since we've had music in this house." Her tone was wistful and I knew she was thinking of Father, who loved music and often sang the as we sat around the fire in the evenings. Father encouraged me to sing as well but he felt I was too loud, my voice too raw for the old ballads he preferred.  
I turned my back again, facing out the window. I heard this interloper with the odd name, this Janick Gers, thank Mother but add that he couldn't stay more than a few weeks. The summer market fairs would commence in a month or two and those were prime territory for minstrel and balladeers. Gers left the chamber then and a few minutes later I saw him leave the house heading for the stables, no doubt to find Arthur or Gerard for instruction.  
"Bruce?" My Mother's voice broke into my reverie and I turned to her. Though I felt nothing but resentment and hostility for the rest of the world, I could not find it in myself to be disrespectful to the woman who had raised me.  
"Bruce, I want you to promise me you will not be to harsh with young Gers. Perhaps it will even be good for you to have someone near your own age around for company."  
I had no intention of seeking out the minstrel's company at all so I promised Mother I would not harass him. She picked up her needlepoint then and, as always, I was left to find my own amusement. My head was still throbbing so I retired to my own chambers and went back to sleep until lunchtime.  
When I awoke I felt much better and rang for the maid to bring hot water so I could bathe and shave. The only remaining maids at the house were rather unattractive so I could not even find amusement there. Lydia had left hurriedly the previous month after it was revealed I had gotten her pregnant, though I had since heard word in town that she had miscarried the child. I was not sorry. Mother would have required me to support the child if it had been born and I had little enough money for my own needs. I felt a passing regret that Lydia had found employment some distance away in Leicester, however. She had been a pretty diversion.  
Having nothing else to do, I ventured outside after bathing to saddle my stallion. Shadow was the finest horse I had ever seen, a dark gray steed with a fiery temperament who only allowed me attend to him. Therefore I was astonished when I entered the stable to find the vagabond Gers at Shadow's stall, stroking his nose and speaking quietly to him.  
"What are you doing near my horse?" I demanded. Gers turned, not showing any alarm at my harsh words.  
"I gave all the horses fresh straw for bedding." was his reply, which wasn't a reply at all because it didn't explain how Shadow had allowed him to touch him.  
Gerard generally only did this while I had Shadow out for a run, he was terrified of the horse.  
"You mucked out his stall while he was in it?" I couldn't keep the disbelief out of my voice.  
"Of course." Gers appeared puzzled by my question. His hand still lay on the velvety nose of my horse and I felt a surge of my earlier resentment of the man. First he shows up so conveniently helping Mother from being stranded in the woods, then he is offered employment, and now he was befriending my horse!  
"Well, stay the hell away from my horse, I'll take care of him myself." I grumbled, hauling my saddle off its rack and preparing Shadow to ride. To my frustration, Gers's only response was the ghost of a smile and a soft "As you wish." I was used to intimidating people, not my own household so much but strangers such as this minstrel, yet he seemed unperturbed by my arrogance or my hostility. I watched him walk out the stable doors into the sunlight, the rays glowing through his long hair highlighting the gold. The random thought crossed my mind that if more men looked like Janick Gers I could see myself giving up on wenches altogether. I shook my head, wondering where that thought had originated, and jumped on Shadow, galloping full speed out of the courtyard and down the narrow road.

Janick:

Bruce Dickinson was an enigma. All bluster and belligerence on the surface, but I hadn't missed the softness in his expression when speaking to his foster mother or the gentleness in his touch as he stroked Shadow before saddling him. Arthur gave me a new task, replacing the mortar on some loose stones of the gateposts, and it was mindless work, allowing me to think. I usually made up tunes in my head when doing such tasks, the music came to me so naturally I scarcely had to think about it, but today I found myself thinking of this unusual household I had suddenly found myself a part of. They had obviously once been considerably wealthier than they now were and I found it curious that, as the ostensible head of household, Bruce Dickinson had not taken control and tried to regain their former solvency. I remembered what Agnes had said about his having been a semi-feral orphan when they had found him, but that had been many years ago. Could it be he still did not consider himself a part of the household? He was obviously well educated and I felt certain that, if he wanted, he would be well up to the task of managing the estate.

It was obvious from his appearance that he was not a blood relative of Lady Dickinson, for she was thin and tall. I'd seen a portrait in the main hall that I assumed was Lord Dickinson and he was quite heavy set so no one could mistake him as a blood relation of Bruce either. Bruce was compact and muscular, shorter than myself with bright, inquisitive amber eyes and very long, very straight chestnut hair with a long fringe nearly reaching his eyes. On the one or two occasions I had seen him smile, he was quite handsome. Strange that I found myself thinking of another man as handsome. I had a few encounters with women in my wanderings but certainly none with men, though I knew it was something certain men were drawn to.  
In the interest of making myself useful I fetched water and firewood for Agnes and the scullery maid as they prepared supper, then Agnes told me I was expected to go to the old minstrel's gallery overlooking the dining hall with my cittern and play as they dined. She had a maid show me the way, it was merely a small balcony about six feet wide but only two feet deep one floor above the dining hall and almost directly opposite the table. A wooden stool awaited me there and, as I had often been engaged to play as people dined, I took my cue to begin playing as soon as the first course was served. It was unusual to be playing only for two, and Master Bruce seemed to be consuming more ale than food, but I closed my eyes as was my habit when playing and let the music overtake me. I had quite a large repertoire but I chose the quieter songs of my own composition as these seemed more appropriate for only the two listeners. I ignored the stool that was there, preferring to stand, and I was aware that I swayed, dancing after a fashion as I played, but as I was above the diners I gave it no thought, doubting that they would look up so see me anyway.  
After several songs, however, I got that uneasy feeling that one gets when they are being watched and I opened my eyes, looking below. Looking straight at me were the piercingly bright eyes of Bruce Dickinson. He held his half-empty glass of ale seemingly forgotten in his hand and looked as though he were scrutinizing me, his gaze searing into me in a way that I found strangely uncomfortable yet somehow titillating. In a wave of self-consciousness I stepped back from the railing as far as I could. It wasn't far enough to break his gaze, however, and I found myself so flustered my fingers missed a note.  
Lady Dickinson was oblivious to this exchange, continuing to eat placidly, and I regained my composure enough to begin another song. Within a few minutes I allowed the music to consume me again, forgetting about Bruce, about Lady Dickinson, about everything except the notes flowing from the strings of my instrument. I had no idea how much time had passed before I was brought out of my trance by the sound of quiet hand clapping, and I looked below to see Lady Dickinson beaming sat me, obviously pleased with my performance. Bruce still sat there, his eyes still glued to me, but when I met his gaze he downed the rest of his ale in one gulp, muttered a hasty excuse to his mother, and strode from the room. I bowed to her ladyship and retreated from the balcony, making my way back to the kitchen where Agnes had my meal waiting along with those of the other staff. 

Over the course of the next several days I learned much about the Dickinson household. For instance, I learned why the maids were middle-aged or unattractive. Bruce would not leave them alone if they were the least bit comely. They were wonderful ladies, though, and as they grew used to my presence they became less reserved about having a man jumping in and lending a hand with such things as laundry or tending the kitchen garden. I was happy to do these things, Lady Dickinson was a true gentlewoman and it pleased me to be of help to her household. But my true joy came in the evenings playing my music as she dined. Sometimes Bruce was present, sometimes he was not and no explanation of his whereabouts was forthcoming. When he was there, however, he persisted in staring at me through my entire performance until I actually got used to it. The evenings when he was not at dinner I often heard him return to the house late, he rode is such a chaotic manner that he galloped at full speed until reaching the very stable door. Once I was awakened by the sound and out of curiosity I wandered to my window and peeked out. It looked directly out toward the door of the stable and I watched in the light of the dim lantern Arthur had left burning by the door as Bruce dismounted, stumbling somewhat, obviously very drunk. He fell against Shadow but the horse merely looked back at him and then, to my complete astonishment, I watched as Bruce threw his arms around the horses neck and hugged the animal. It was too dim and too far to see for certain, but it almost looked as though Bruce was crying against the horses neck. I tried to convince myself I was mistaken, but in my heart I didn't believe I was. A felt an impulse to go out to him, which I quickly realized was a foolish thought. I had seldom run into him since that first day in the stable, our only encounters were when he would watch me play as he and his mother dined. Fascinated, I watched for several minutes until he pulled himself away from the horse and led it unsteadily inside. 

I returned to my bed but found it difficult to find sleep again, the image of Bruce Dickinson holding his horse like a lifeline as he cried was burned into my mind. Why would such a privileged young man act the way he did? As curious as I was, I found I couldn't broach the subject to Arthur the next day as we worked on replacing some loose slates on the stable roof. When I fetched in firewood that evening for Agnes so that she could begin preparing supper, however, I overheard her talking to the downstairs maid who also served as cook, a tiny woman of indeterminate age named Sally. They were standing at the sideboard preparing vegetables and hadn't heard me enter.  
"Master Bruce is in one of his moods today." I heard Sally remark.  
"And well he should be! His clothes reeked of ale when I gathered the wash this morning and he was passed out so soundly he didn't hear me try to wake him for the noon meal."  
Sally shook her head. "So sad, the young Master being as he is."  
"Sad! I think it's a disgrace!"  
"Ah, but you remember as well as I do the day his Lordship found him. As thin as a rail, hair filthy and matted. He could barely speak. Lord knows how long he had been living on his own, it was a miracle he survived."  
"Oh yes, I remember too well, but I also remember how he took on when his Lordship died. Her ladyship was inconsolable, yet what did Master Bruce do? Retreat into his room and not come out for over a week! Her ladyship needed him and he turned his back on her, and him only twelve years old! It was inexcusable!"  
"But Aggie, you know how close the boy was to his lordship! It was his way of coping with the grief."  
Agnes gave a harumph. "I think it was his way of dealing with learning he had not been provided for in the will!"  
Sally tsk-tsked. "I still think you're being unfair...."  
At that moment a log I had been carrying fell from my arms and both women jumped in surprise. I pretended I had just entered the room and hadn't heard a thing, but I found myself more puzzled than ever about Master Bruce Dickinson. So he hadn't been provided for in his Lordship's will. This was news to me and perhaps it partially explained why he seemed to have no interest in the estate business, yet it didn't explain the other odd behavior. The heavy drinking, the reckless horseback rides, and particularly the way his eyes seemed to burn into me as he watched me play my music each evening. I sensed no threat there but I couldn't identify what I did sense. It left me uneasy, yet it gave me a strange sense of satisfaction to look down and catch him eyeing me so intently. I attributed it to his simply appreciating my music and tried to ignore it, but I could not.  
That very evening as I left the kitchen to make my way to the gallery to play, Agnes stopped me.  
Master Janick," she had taken to calling me by my first name now, "her ladyship asked me to make a special request of you tonight."  
I turned, a little apprehensive. Had I perhaps overstayed my welcome? I knew Arthur and Gerard still had many tasks they needed my help to do, though, so I waited for her to go on.  
"You may not have noticed, but there is a harpsichord in the parlour. Her ladyship used to play often when his Lordship was here. She asked if you would be so kind as to join her in the parlour after dinner and accompany her as she plays."  
I broke into a smile, I couldn't help myself. I had occasionally played with other musicians, especially at the summer faires, and I enjoyed it immensely. "I would be honored!" I told Agnes.  
"In that case, perhaps you'd best have a bite to eat now." While Agnes obviously did not approve of Bruce, she was unfailingly kind to me and I accepted the food gratefully.  
I played as usual as her ladyship and Bruce dined, but after I made my down from the minstrels gallery to join Lady Dickinson in the parlour I was surprised to see Bruce in there as well. He seemed reasonably sober and while he wasn't formally dressed he was well dressed in comparison to his usual rather worn doublet and long breeches. He was sitting on the divan across from where his mother was already seated at the harpsichord wearing a waistcoat and matching fawn colored knee breeches over matching hose. He looked more the picture of a gentleman than I had yet seen him, his long hair washed and shining and he was even carefully shaven. I found I was staring at him a bit longer than necessary due to the difference in his appearances and I turned and bowed to Lady Dickinson.  
"I'm pleased you've graced us with your presence, Master Gers" she was saying, her kindly face smiling. "I trust you will not mind if my son joins us? He has a fine voice."  
I glanced at Bruce and saw that he appeared almost embarrassed by his mother's words. "Nonsense, Mother. You know Father always told me my voice is too unrefined for song."  
"I happen to disagree. However, if it will make you more comfortable, my dear, we shall play a few of the more rustic ballads".

I caught the warm look Bruce gave his mother, but he seemed very reluctant to join in as his mother and I started to play. I had learned to be an adaptable player from having to compete with other minstrels and balladeers and as a result I quickly adapted to her ladyship's style of playing. The cittern and harpsichord weren't instruments commonly played together but once we had run through a couple of instrumentals I felt comfortable with it. It was then that Lady Dickinson turned to her son who, I was aware, had been watching me in the same manner he always did as I played over dinner.  
"Bruce, dear, it has been ages since I've heard you sing. Can I persuade you to sing one of my favorites for me as Master Gers accompanies you?"  
He looked very reluctant but didn't refuse. "What song do you wish to hear, mother?"  
"Let's start with something simple, shall we. How about Barbara Allen?"  
I could tell Bruce was suppressing a sigh and he nodded. I waited for a moment and began to play the opening chords of the popular song. To my utter surprise, Bruce began to sing right on cue.

"Twas in the merry month of May  
When green buds all were swelling,  
Sweet William on his death bed lay  
For love of Barbara Allen."

I couldn't help but gasp which, thankfully, was covered by the music. His voice was strong, almost raw, but the pitch was perfect and the timing was flawless. What's more, his reluctance vanished as he got a few verses into the song and I could tell he was enjoying himself, though I doubted he would ever admit it. He sang eight verses, though the song had many versions with different words, and when he finished he had a look of almost peace on his face.  
Though the gentry rarely displayed affection, Lady Dickinson was visibly moved and stood, going over to her son and laying a chaste kiss on his brow, which made him actually blush.  
"Oh Bruce, my dear, how I've missed your voice and the sound of music in this house! Please, won't you sing another?"  
He smiled almost reluctantly, then looked at me. "I trust you're familiar with Rosebud in June?"  
I nodded, unable to keep from smiling. "Of course."  
Lady Dickinson had returned to her seat but clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh that is such a lovely song!"  
Without preamble, I began to play and Bruce to sing. When we got to the chorus I found myself joining in, though I didn't fancy myself a singer 

"We'll pipe and we'll sing love  
We'll dance in a ring love  
When each lad takes his lass  
All on the green grass  
And it's oh to plough  
Where the fat oxen graze low  
And the lads and the lasses  
Do sheep shearing go"

Bruce and his Mother laughed together as the song ended and I don't think I had seen him genuinely laugh before, nor be in such good spirits, even while drunk.. "May I sing one of my favorites now, Mother? I'll need you to accompany Master Gers."

"Of course, son!" It was obvious how much pleasure her ladyship took in seeing her son at ease and happy. He suggested a lesser known song but one I was familiar with and obviously his mother was as well, 'Cold, haily, windy night'. It was a faster beat but we were more than up to it, I hadn't played it since I was in my early teens, playing before the guests at my Grandparents inn. We played a few more, some with Bruce singing and some with me and her ladyship simply playing our instruments, but then she began to tire.  
"We must do this again," she declared while thanking me and bidding me goodnight. "Perhaps we can try for one evening a week." I bowed and made to leave the parlour, observing in the mirror mounted by the door as Bruce kissed his mother's brow and bid her goodnight as well.

 

Bruce:

As I retired to my chambers that night I was aware that I hadn't had an evening such as that in years. Since Father passed, in fact. I felt the ever-present knot of guilt that came every time I thought of him because I knew he would have been disappointed in me. I had been a wild teen, causing mother a great deal of worry and grief, and though I was more thoughtful toward her now that I had returned from school I still could not find it in my heart to take on the burden of running the estate. Mother did most of the book work herself, assisted by Arthur in the actual collections of rents and sale of the crops, but I knew in my heart that neither of them could do it much longer. If I could get beyond the bitter self-destructive streak that led me toward drink and debauchery, perhaps I could try. And perhaps this evening in Mother's company was a start. I had enjoyed myself immensely and had only had a glass or two of port.  
And there was the minstrel Janick Gers. He of the long wavy hair that fell across his shoulders as he leaned his head back, eyes closed as his fingers found the notes on his instrument. He had smiled his soft, gentle smile at mother and, though I'm sure he didn't realize it, he had been smiling at me as well when I sang. I hadn't even considered singing in years and I do not know what possessed me to sing that night at all. No, that was not entirely true. I knew I had sang only partially because it pleased mother. And I had sang because somehow Janick Gers and his music had helped me find a joy inside myself that I had thought died with my father.

I found I could not sleep and fell to reflecting on why it had been so difficult for me to enjoy something as simple as an evening of music with Mother. It had been ten years since Father's death and I knew I should no longer grieve, yet I did. It wasn’t only that he had passed so suddenly nor even that he had not provided for me to take over as head of the estate. That was part of it, true, but I had always felt he had abandoned me. I had been abandoned as a small child by my natural parents and perhaps it had left me with a predisposed fear of it happening again. And in a way I had been, because mere months after Father's passing I had been sent away to school for eight years. Mother wrote faithfully every week and I had sent short replies only once every two or three months. True, I had come home for school holidays but by the time I was in my mid-teens I spent much of my time at home seeking wenches or getting drunk. Then later I discovered the Molly houses in the cities a days ride away. I had been introduced to the pleasures of that lifestyle at school but, unlike most of the other boys, with me it was more than a passing diversion. And now I lay awake in my bed ruminating over those encounters and finding the vision of Janick Gers kept intruding on my mind.

 

Janick:

My days at Dickinson Manor fell into an easy routine and as long as I could play my music in the evenings, I was content. Bruce was absent from dinner for the next few nights after our musical evening in the parlour. Lady Dickinson looked rather lonely dining by herself and for those evenings I chose to play upbeat compositions of my own. I felt compassion for her and she had shown me nothing but kindness so I felt I should try and cheer her in any way I could. I knew Bruce was around, however, because I often heard him return late in the night, though I was not again tempted to look out of the window at him. I had felt an intruder doing that, it had seemed so out of character for Bruce to have been so emotional even while drunk.  
I had been over a month at the manor and we had one more musical evening in the parlour, though it seemed that Lady Dickinson's hopes for it becoming a regular occurrence weren't to be. Bruce was absent as often as not, and I noticed that while she enjoyed my playing through her dinner, her fondest hope was for Bruce to sing once again. When he wasn't there, she did not suggest my joining her in the parlor to accompany her as she played her harpsichord. The second evening was much as the first, a few weeks later, though this time Bruce was deeper in his cups and less formal in appearance, dressed in his everyday linen tunic and breeches. He did sing for his mother, however, and when he chose a foc'sle song I felt my own heart wring, it reminded me so much of my own father. When he was home from sea the Inn was filled with his seagoing mates and though things could never get too rowdy due to my Grandmother's strict influence, there were many stories and songs of the sea shared. Father always let me linger by the wide stone hearth listening, singing along once I grew older and learned many of the songs.  
When his mother asked him what he would like to sing, Bruce glanced at me "Do you know many seafaring songs?"  
I laughed. "Indeed I do, my father was a sailor"  
His widened a bit in surprise but he didn't comment. "Right, then, you'll know Lowlands Away"  
Without comment I began to play softly, because the song was usually played with concertina or no instrument at all. But when Bruce began to sing, I was overcome with unexpected emotion, it brought back those happy evenings in the inn so vividly to my mind.  
Bruce's voice was fitting for the song, with it's rough edge but strong tone.

I dreamed a dream the other night,  
Lowlands, Lowlands, away, my John.  
I dreamed a dream the other night,  
Lowlands away.  
I dreamed my love came in my sleep,  
Lowlands, Lowlands, away, my John.  
Her cheeks were wet; her eyes did weep.  
Lowlands away.

 

I played as an automation, but when the song was finished I felt my face moist with tears. Her ladyship was first to notice, though I tried to turn away.  
"Master Janick, whatever is wrong? Are you unwell?"  
"No.., no. I am fine."I tried to keep my voice from quavering. "The song reminded me of my Father, please forgive me for becoming emotional."  
In that moment I looked up and felt Bruce's eyes lock onto my own, and I found a warmth there that had never been directed at me before. An understanding, almost a kinship showed in his expression. I realized he had no awareness of my past or anything about my life, but now that he learned that I, too, grieved for my father he seemed to look at me differently.  
After a moment, Lady Dickinson suggested an upbeat song to lighten the mood and, I suspect, to take my mind off my loss. Without thinking, I launched into Raggle Taggle Gypsy-o. It was a lively, lighthearted song and by the third verse I found that both Bruce and I were singing to it, all three of us falling into an easy laughter when the song ended. My melancholy had passed, and when the evening ended I saw Bruce watching me leave the room with a look of mixed curiosity and almost envy on his face. I took my usual route back to my chamber through the kitchen, checking the larder for any leftovers from dinner that Agnes may have stashed there. She never minded if I had a few bites before retiring for the night. I found a cold breast of fowl in there and helped myself, turning and nearly running straight into Bruce Dickinson.  
He gave me quite a start, I hadn't heard him behind me at all but I realized he must have followed me soon after I'd left the parlour. I gasped, nearly coughing on the mouthful of food, and in the dim light of the lamp I carried I saw him smile.  
"Forgive me for startling you, Master Gers. " His smile showed amusement in spite of his polite words.  
"Is there something I can do for you, Master Dickinson?" I regained my composure and fell into my role as a servant in his home.  
At my words, an odd look flashed through his eyes so quickly I thought I'd imagined it but he hesitated, then spoke. "I was simply wondering....." he seemed to strive for the right words to express himself. "I was curious how long it has been since your father passed away?"  
We'd gone back into the main kitchen then and Bruce indicated that I should sit in one of the chairs at the servant's dining table, taking one for himself as we each lay our lanterns on the table.  
I couldn't imagine why he was asking but I replied without hesitation. "Nearly four years now, he and my grandparents were all taken by cholera that winter."  
His eyes widened. "All of them? At once?"  
"Within the space of a few weeks, yes."  
His true reason for inquiring about such a personal subject was revealed when he shook his head in wonder "But how did you manage, how could you cope with such loss?"  
"Because there was no choice, I suppose." I replied quietly. "My grandparents inn, where I grew up while my father was off to sea, was taken by the city for taxes and I had little choice other than to take to the roads."  
"You had no other family?" He still seemed perplexed, unable to comprehend how I had simply struck off on my own the way I had. The void between landed gentry and commoners such as myself was never so apparent to me.  
"In Poland, yes. My Father has family there but I don't know them, I've never met them. At any rate, I wanted to strike out on my own and perform my music."  
Bruce sat and looked deep in thought for a few moments, then looked at me, realizing I had stopped eating in deference to his presence. "Please, continue your meal."  
"It is only a snack" I confessed. "Agnes provides my meal for me before I go to entertain for your dinner."  
He gave an actual smile then, and I was perplexed by his sudden camaraderie. "Continue with your snack, then! " He stood up to go and I stood with him. He was, after all, the master of the house, whether it be official or not. He took a step to leave, then turned to me. "I envy you, Gers."  
I know my mouth dropped open. "You....you envy me, sir?"  
"Do not call me sir, please. I understand you must call me Master Dickinson, there is no other proper way to address me, but in many ways you and I are not so different, you know. In fact...." his voice fell, as though he were almost talking to himself, "in many ways I believe could learn a great deal from you."  
Leaving me with that mystifying statement, he bid me an abrupt goodnight and left. I finished my bit of goose meat, scooped a drink of water from the bucket with the dipper, and went to bed but I was mulling over the change in Bruce Dickinson after he had learned more of my own circumstances. I vividly remembered his referring to me as a vagrant and a wastrel when his mother first proposed I stay at the manor, but I sensed that he saw me in a somewhat better light now.

Summer was coming on, I had been at the Dickinson manor for two months now yet there was still much to be done. Arthur was in good health but, given his age, was not strong and Gerard suffered from arthritis and there were days I took on grounds keeping duties as well. I did not mind, I still sang in the evenings for Lady Dickinson and I learned through Agnes that her ladyship had been setting aside a small wage for me to be given when I decided to leave her employ to see me through until my next venture. When I learned of this, I asked to be taken to her ladyship to speak with her about it.  
"Oh, dear," Agnes wrung her hands, "I don't believe I was supposed to have told you about that. Her ladyship will be disappointed in me for revealing her plan."  
"Don't worry," I assured Agnes with a smile. "I won't indicate in any way that I heard of it from you. But I feel I must speak to her."  
Reluctantly, Agnes took me to where her ladyship was embroidering after breakfast in the morning room and, as always, Lady Dickinson received me with a gracious smile. It was against custom for her to invite me, a mere servant, to sit but she indicated that I do so and I perched on the edge of a chair opposite her. I wasted no time in telling her I was uncomfortable with the idea of being paid upon my eventual departure.  
"I had hoped you wouldn't learn of that." she confessed. Thankfully, she did not ask how I heard of it. "But you have been a tremendous help to us all here and I feel very strongly that you must be reimbursed."  
"I am getting room and board, Ma'am, and I get to play for you every evening. This is how I have been living for several years now, I play my music in return for food and shelter. I am very seldom paid in money unless it is money tossed to me at a faire or market."  
"I understand that, Master Janick, but you are doing much more here than merely playing music. I have observed you do some quite heavy labour around the estate and Arthur has told me of your willingness to work, and work cheerfully. I know the faires will be starting soon and I fear we may lose you, and if we do I do not want you to leave out home penniless."  
She was right in that the trade faires were in season, some had already begun in fact, but oddly enough it had not occurred to me to leave the Dickinsons to play my music there as I normally would.  
"Actually, Lady Dickinson, I'm quite happy working here and am not in any rush to move on, as long as I can be of help to the staff."  
Her weathered face broke into a large smile. "I cannot express how pleased I am to hear that! The addition of music to our home means as much to me as does your labour for the staff. And there is Bruce...."she began, but broke off her words as though she thought better of what she had been going to say. I stayed silent, giving her an opportunity to speak if she wished to.  
Finally, after several long moments, she did. "Since you've been here, since you've been playing for us over dinner and with us in the parlor, Bruce has been home more. He's been drinking less. He seems less....mercurial. Less volatile. It's not merely your music, Master Gers. It's having someone his own age here in the house."  
"But I barely see him, let alone speak to him." Even as I said that, I thought of the brief but unexpected conversation with Bruce in the kitchen several evenings before.  
Lady Dickinson shook her head with a gentle smile. "I know my son. I could understand him even when he was away at school, I could read the meanings behind the few letters he sent and it was as though he had written volumes rather than just a few sentences. He was lonely and frightened at school, feeling he had been abandoned again just as he had been as a child. I had to send him to school, I had to give him the advantage of an education, but beneath it all I expected him to make use of it by managing the estate. I believe coming home has brought my husband's sudden death to the forefront of his mind again and he has again been wrestling with feelings of loneliness and abandonment. Trust me, Master Janick. Your being here is good for Bruce, it reminds him that a man can go on with life after loss, that one can make one's own way in the world."  
I was silent, pondering her words. I was growing used to her ladyship's forthright and confidential manner. It was unusual for a lady of her standing to speak so frankly to a mere minstrel but Lady Dickinson was an unusual lady, unconventional in her own way, and I was honored that she felt she could speak so freely with me.  
"I hope you are right, Milady. And as I said, I have no immediate plans to leave your employ. I still wish to protest your offer of wages, however."  
"Young man, that is how I wish to handle things. Please allow me to care for my staff as I see fit."  
Well, one couldn't argue with that. I took my leave of her, grateful for her candor and musing over what she had told me of Bruce.

One of my duties was to go into the closest village to buy flour and meal at the mill for the household. I would take the work cart drawn by the Suffolk Sorrel generally used for the heavier draft work. It generally took a few hours, but on this occasion I got a late start and did not return to the Manor until twilight. As was my usual practice, I first unloaded the heavy bags and stored them in the granary behind the stable, then took the horse and cart around to the front to unhitch and rub down the horse. It was when I was leading the big horse to it's stall that I noticed lamplight coming from Shadow's stall. Curious and somewhat concerned that Bruce, perhaps drunk, had accidentally left a lamp burning near the straw, I looked in over the stall door. The sorrowful sight that met my eyes caused my heart to wrench. Inside the stall, Shadow lay on his side. Bruce sat close to the horses head, stroking his neck, murmuring soothing words that I couldn't make out.  
I must have made some small sound because Bruce looked up with a start and his amber eyes were moist with tears.  
"Master Dickinson," I heard my own voice tremble, so affected was I by the emotional scene. "What has happened?"  
Bruce stayed where he sat and hung his head. When he spoke I had to strain to hear his words. "He stumbled. We....I....." then suddenly it was though a dam broke and tears started flowing from Bruce. "It was my fault. I made him try a jump that was too high. His hind leg caught the top rail of the fence and somehow twisted. It took me an hour to lead him back here, then he collapsed. He's in pain."  
Without being invited, without even thinking of it, I entered the stall and knelt at the horse's side opposite Bruce. The normally fiery horse merely whickered softy when I stroked his neck, then I slowly moved my hand down to the injured rear leg.  
"Don't hurt him!" Bruce wasn't harsh, merely concerned.  
I didn't reply, instead quietly explaining to Bruce what I was doing. "When I was growing up at my Grandparents inn I often helped the hostler care for the guest's horses. I've seen a few injuries, maybe this isn't as bad as you fear." As I was speaking I ran my hand across the swollen joint of Shadow's left rear leg. The horse flinched, but I stroked his side and kept my movements slow. I felt swollen tissue, but beneath it the bone and the joint felt normal.  
"If it's broken he'll have to be....to be.." Bruce couldn't say it, but we both knew that a horse with a broken leg had to be put down.  
"It's all right, it isn't broken."  
"How do you know?!" Bruce challenged, his eyes momentarily regaining their usual sharpness,  
"Feel right here," I didn't think of it as I took Bruce's hand, momentarily forgetting the difference in our positions. "Right here at the joint. Feel how the bone is straight and the joint moves when you bend it. Don't do it much, it hurts him, but this is just a sprain. In a week, perhaps, he will be walking again and in a fortnight he will be as strong as ever."  
Bruce's eyes locked on mine, and I saw the change in their expression as he accepted my words as truth. "Thanks be to the Lord." he muttered. It was the first time I had heard him utter anything even resembling a prayer, and I knew he meant it. It took me a moment to realize I still hand my hand over his where I had guided him in examining the horse.

 

Bruce:

I felt like collapsing in relief. Once the minstrel had pointed it out, I realized that he was right. Shadow had a bad sprain but no permanent injury. I had been far too agitated to make the simple examination myself, and I knew little about horses anyway in spite of riding since the age of six. I couldn't even feel ashamed breaking down emotionally in front of him, my relief was so great. I looked over at the minstrel - who I had begun to think of in my mind by his Christian name, Janick - as he softly stroked his hand across the horses flank then with a slight start I realized that his other hand was still over mine on the horse's injured leg. Even upon realizing it, I didn't jerk my hand away. It felt as though both of our touches were somehow helping relieve Shadow's pain but, beyond that, the touch of the work roughened skin and calloused fingertips calmed me as well. The thought of having to have Shadow killed because of his injury had been almost more than I could bear and during the long, slow walk home from where the accident had taken place I had unashamedly cried the entire way. I listened to Janick talk soothingly to the horse and marveled yet again at how Shadow had taken to the man. Shadow had nearly kicked farriers in the head before for even attempting to shoe him and would allow no one but me to groom him, not even Arthur or Gerard. Yet he actually seemed to relax beneath the soft touch of Janick Gers.  
"I can make a poultice of sorts that may relieve the swelling." Janick said, and he removed his hand from mine to get up to do so, leaving me feeling somehow cold though it was a warm evening. I didn't want to move from Shadow's side and Janick was gone for some time, returning with a small bucket and some rough cloth from torn up flour sacks. He knelt again, smiling at the horse and Shadow rolled his eyes at him apprehensively.  
"It will be all right, old boy. I know it hurts, we'll try to make that a bit better for you, all right?"  
I found myself smiling at how Janick spoke to the horse as though he were an injured child, though I myself spoke incessantly to Shadow when we were on our rides. Whatever he had mixed in the bucket smelled malty and strongly of onions, and he dipped his hands in it, spreading the thick, lumpy mixture over Shadows swollen leg. I watched, almost mesmerized by how gently his hands moved, and a unbidden thought came to my mind that those same hands would feel so good if it were me rather than the horse he was ministering to. I mentally shook myself and tore my gaze from his hands to his face. This didn't help. He wore a look of both concentration and concern as he finished applying the mix, wiped his hands on one of the flour sacks, and gently wound the other around the injured leg, binding it with loosely tied strips of the cloth.  
"What is in that concoction?" I finally asked, and he looked up at me and smiled. "Barley and mashed onion. Herbs are better to use but I don't have any on hand. I can go out tomorrow and try to find arnica and perhaps some yarrow, though."  
"Would that help? I....I would appreciate that. I would go and pick the myself but I have no idea what to look for."  
"Arnica is supposed to be the best for sprains . If you like, I can show you what the plants look like."  
"How do you know all of this? You said you're the son of a sailor and were raised in an inn." Janick nodded. "That is true, but my Grandmother was a midwife and was often called upon to care for other ailments as well. I would help her when I could."  
I found that I was watching Janick's gray eyes as he spoke. They were like a mirror to his emotions, turning darker with emotion when he spoke of his grandmother, lighter when he talked quietly to Shadow. He stood and took the bucket with the strong smelling mixture outside and I heard him washing his hands clean in the horse trough. I expected him to go on into the house from there but instead he returned to the stall and sat opposite me again. I tried to find words to thank him. Thought I was taught proper manners both in school and at home, I had not exercised them much lately.  
"I....I want to thank you for your help. And I feel I was a bit too emotional earlier...."  
Janick cut me off with a gentle smile. "Think nothing of it, Master Dickinson. You were overwrought and worried. Are you intending to stay here with Shadow tonight?"  
I nodded, looking down at the horse. He appeared more relaxed now but I couldn't rest easy in my bed knowing he was out here in the stall and in pain." Yes, I believe I shall."  
"I can stay as well, if you would like the company."  
I looked up in surprise and I saw the momentary fear in Janick's eyes that he had overstepped his place by making that offer. "You don't have to do that, but I thank you for the offer."  
"I really wouldn't mind. I've spent many a night in a stable, and in far worse places as well."  
I looked at him for a long moment, gauging his sincerity. It was plain that his offer was genuine. In fact I found it difficult to believe that this man could be deceptive in any way.  
"Thank you" I heard myself say quietly. "I did not relish the thought of staying out here alone."  
Janick gave a real smile then, seemingly pleased with the prospect of sleeping in a smelly stable when he had a perfectly good bed to go to. "I will get us some fresh straw to lie on." he offered and left the stall, returning a few minutes later with a handcart of sweet smelling straw as well as a bucket of fresh water in case Shadow should become thirsty. For ourselves, he drew a bucket of well water and gathered a handful of fruits from the root cellar behind the stable. How could I ever have thought of this caring and thoughtful man as a good-for-nothing vagrant? Humbled by his assistance and still overwrought from my concern over Shadow, I thanked him quietly as he handed me some apples and cheese and we piled some straw against the wooden divider between stalls, leaning against it as we ate in a strangely comfortable silence.  
In my haste I hadn't thought to fill the lantern with oil and it began to flicker as it ran out of fuel.  
"Would you like me to fetch some oil?" Janick asked in his quiet way.  
"No, I suppose there's no need and if we fall asleep it could cause a fire if we left it burning."  
Without comment he crawled the few feet to where the lantern was hung and turned it out. I once more caught myself watching him, his tight-fitting breeches hugging his trim arse and long legs, and I admitted to myself that I found him more attractive than any bawdy house girl or young male prostitute I had ever known. Inwardly, I sighed, knowing that he was extremely unlikely to be interested in such pursuits with others of his own gender. I was sorry when the light went out, now I couldn't admire his long golden hair or see the expressive gray eyes.  
He returned to his place next to me in the straw, leaning back with his knees up and his arms clasped around them. It was some minutes before either of us spoke, but it wasn't a strained silence. I felt oddly comfortable in his presence.  
"How long have you had Shadow?" he finally asked.  
"Since he was born, and he is four years old now." I replied. "His sire was one of my Father's finest steeds." I thought back to the day I returned from school on holiday to find the gangly foal in the stable. Mother had written me that there was a surprise awaiting me but I had no idea what it could be and, truthfully, at the time I couldn't be bothered to care. "He is my only friend." I hadn't intended to say that aloud but in the dim moonlight I saw Janick nod in understanding.  
"I haven't even a horse as a friend." he replied softly. This astonished me.  
"Surely you are friends with the staff here, and you must know other minstrels."  
"I know other minstrels, yes, but we are more competitors than friends. We share a bond in that we face the same struggles, but I am not close with any. And as for the staff....well, it was understood from the first that my position here is temporary. I know it and the staff know it so we haven't formed any close friendships."  
I could understand that, though I found it unsettling to be reminded that he was only here temporarily.  
"Mother would give you a permanent position here, you know. She seems quite taken with you." I said that without any rancor, I was actually pleased that Mother had a younger, more physically fit man to help with the work and I knew how much pleasure his music gave her.  
"I've been a wanderer for over three years. It would feel odd to stay in one place and only play for her ladyship and yourself."  
I felt a flicker of relief that he hadn't said outright that he wouldn't consider staying on.  
"In the days of our forefathers it was common for a house such as this to have a resident minstrel." I pointed out.  
"Yes, but I believe that the profession, if such you can call it, is slowly dying and within a hundred years we will be no more."  
"That would be a tragedy indeed." I said honestly, and I heard the ghost of a laugh from him.  
"I'm not speaking in jest. The one thing I am passionate about is a dying art as well."  
I sensed more than saw Janick turn his head to look at me. "What is that, if I may ask?"  
"Fencing. It was the one thing I excelled at in school. My studies were mediocre at best and my interactions with the other students was often....unpleasant. But in fencing, I felt a confidence I could find no other place."  
Janick was quiet for a few minutes. "It is not my place to say this, and I ask for forgiveness for speaking so frankly, but it's my observation that you excel in many things. You are an expert horseman..."  
I interrupted him "I caused my horse to be injured."  
Janick went on as though I hadn't spoken. "You are well educated, that is obvious, and have a fine singing voice. Could it be that you do not excel at other things simply because you fear to attempt them?"  
I had a retort on the tip if my tongue but I bit it back. Because I realized he could be right, and probably was right. "You can speak freely to me, Master Gers. Even though I bear the name Dickinson and was raised on this estate, by birth I am of no greater background than yourself, and probably less." I said instead. He was an intelligent man, was this minstrel, and an astute one as well when it came to human character.  
"Thank you. In that case, you may call me Janick, as you call Arthur by his given name and Agnes by hers."  
"And perhaps it isn't acceptable but when it is just you and I present, you can address me as Bruce."  
"Thank you." Janick said again, and at that moment I felt a shift in the balance between us. I did not feel in any way superior to him, because I knew in my heart that my own birth family were probably from a much lower station than his, and I felt that we both accepted the truth of our equality without putting it into words. Our conversation became less stilted then, with Janick especially being less guarded about how he spoke to me. For example, when he next spoke he asked me, politely but pointedly, why I did not attempt to take on some of the management of the estate. "You would be good at it, I am certain you would, though perhaps it would bore you."  
At that I let a somewhat bitter laugh escape. "What bores me now is the endless cycle of drinking and whoring I seem to be caught up in. I get less and less pleasure from it, yet I feel I cannot change. It is a pattern in which my life has become stuck."  
"I think I can understand that." Instead of judging me, Janick responded readily. "My father was much the same about going to sea. My mother died before I was even a year old and yet he could not resist going back to sea, leaving me for my mother's family to care for. It was the same until he grew too crippled to work aboard a ship. He worked at the dockyards then and he and I became close, and he told me once that he deeply regretted missing so much of my life. I would not want you to one day wake up with such regrets, Bruce, knowing you could have done something other than ........drinking and whoring." he laughed at the end and I joined his laughter because for some reason it sounded humorous.  
My laughter died after a minute, however, and I grew serious. "I know you are right, Janick. I've been feeling those regrets already and I'm only twenty-two."  
"I have no doubt that her ladyship would welcome any contributions you wanted to make toward running this estate, and I'm equally certain there are many young ladies who would be thrilled to have such a handsome young man courting them. You could have a family of your own, this estate will no doubt be yours if, God forbid, anything were to happen to her ladyship. You could have everything any man could desire."  
I was quiet for many long minutes after that, digesting what he had said. I had already halfway made up my mind to be of more help to my mother, but my mind latched on to two other things he had said that stood out in my mind. One, that he had casually referred to me as 'handsome', and two, he had said I could have anything any man could desire. That last one was untrue. I had no interest in marrying or having a family of my own. The one thing I desired most, and I finally admitted it to myself, was Janick.  
He and I were being open with be another, more open than I had been with any of my peers at school, more open than I had been with anyone other than Shadow since my father passed on and I had been a mere child then. Could I dare to be open about what most would consider my unnatural predilections? I felt that Janick would not reveal it to anyone, and I also knew that he was not the type to judge another man.  
Just as I was mulling it over in my mind, I felt Janick move closer to me in the straw. It was cool, but not so cold he was seeking body heat, and he sat so close I could feel his warm leg and arm next to me.  
"Of course..." he spoke very quietly, "there is nothing that says you must marry or have children to be happy in life."  
His words fit in so well with what I had been thinking about it was almost uncanny. "What do you mean?" I finally dared ask.  
He fell silent and for a minute I thought he had either fallen asleep or was simply not going to reply. Then he spoke. "When I was around thirteen I was working in the stables at the inn. My job was to go out first thing in the morning and throw fresh hay down from the loft to feed the horses. If the inn was full or if someone couldn't afford a room, sometimes my Grandmother would let those people sleep in the loft."  
Janick fell silent, but this time I knew he was just thinking of how to go on with his tale. "One morning I climbed the ladder to get the hay and I saw two young men who had slept up there the night before. I think they were on their way to market or something. Anyway they were.....were doing things. Things I had no idea up until that moment could be done between two men. They didn't hear me, they were so engaged in their activities, and I knew I should retreat as quickly and quietly as I had arrived. But I didn't. It was as though I couldn't. I......I watched for a long time. I couldn't get it out of my mind, even years later when I took to the roads. At some places I played, wenches would seek me out and climb into my bed but......." I could hear something in his voice. Not shame, but more like astonishment, "I couldn't.....enjoy myself with those girls unless I thought about what I witnessed that morning so long ago."  
My thoughts were whirling around so fast I couldn't catch hold of them, and the first thing that came out of my mouth was "How did you know? That I....I'm like that. You wouldn't have told me any of this if you hadn't guessed, but how did you know?"

His answer was honest. "I don't know. I supposed I sensed it somehow, maybe it was something I saw in how you looked at me. I really do not know."  
I was conscious of my heart hammering in my chest and I was also conscious of a growing hardness in my breeches. Shadow moved restlessly but went back to sleep, and I felt as though minutes were ticking past.  
"Janick, do you think you may be....so inclined yourself?"  
His reply was immediate but spoken so quietly it was barely a whisper. "Yes."  
More silence, and I was overwhelmingly aware of how close to me he sat. I could feel his warmth, I could smell the lavender soap Agnes made for the household's use, I could even smell his hair, a scent of fresh air and fresh hay. I had laid with many men and many more women, but almost all had been paid whores or, in school, a sort of initiation rite to ward off bullying. This was something completely different and for the first time in my life it took me real courage to say what I had to say next.  
"Would you let me kiss you, Janick?" There it was, open to rejection, the fear of which I had been letting rule my life.  
But again he didn't hesitate. "Yes."  
Now that I had his consent, though, I was unsure what to do. I had used many of the young male prostitutes almost cruelly and I had been careless and disconnected from the women I'd been with. I had no intention of acting in either way in this situation, but in the end it was Janick who made the initial move. He moved closer yet to me, his warm leg pressed against my own now, and in the dark I felt him grope for my hand, finding it and twining his fingers through mine.  
"I've never acted on these....impulses." he confessed. "I've never met a man I felt I could trust. I do not know why, but I trust you, Bruce."  
"And I assure you, you can." I moved toward him how, pulling him closer by our clasped hands until he was so close I felt his breath on my cheek. Then I moved in until I felt my lips lightly brush against his. He didn't move at first, then when I increased pressure, I felt him start to return the kiss. It was so different from the harlots and fancy boys, Janick's breath was fresh, tasting faintly of the apples we'd eaten, and his responses were genuine. He wasn't kissing me because I paid him, he was kissing me because he wanted to and I do not know if that had ever happened to me before.  
Janick pulled away and his breathing was somewhat rapid. We still sat close and I could feel his heartbeat. He was nervous, perhaps even frightened. My own heart was pounding but not from fear, and another part of my anatomy was practically pounding as well. I felt an incredibly powerful surge of desire for him, but beneath that there was another sensation. It took me a moment to pinpoint it but it was affection, a fondness for this man. Had he been a common tavern wench or a boy from a Molly house, I would have pushed him back into the straw and had my way with him, but I couldn't imagine doing anything against Janick's will. I waited until I felt Janick had time to regain his composure and to my relief he didn't jump up and run out of the stable.  
"The men you saw when you were young," I ventured after a long silence, "what were they doing?"  
Even in the near darkness I knew Janick was blushing and he took his time, but did answer me. "They were lying together nude, and one had the other's umm....., member in his mouth. That man was touching the first man, his hand wrapped around him. Then, while I stood there frozen to the spot, the first man......," Janick's words did fail him then. I felt I knew what had happened next but I wanted to hear him confirm it.  
"What?" I urged him on gently. "Whatever happened next, it must have made a considerable impression on you. And to be perfectly honest, I'm certain I've done the same thing myself, if not worse."  
To my relief, Janick laughed almost against his will. "If you've done it, then you know what happened. Don't make me say it."  
I reached out and cupped my hand softly against Janick's cheek. "Then I'll tell you what I believe happened and you can just nod if I'm right. The first man put his member inside the second man, didn't he?"  
Jan nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Yes. And they both reached their climax." He turned to me, inches away though I could barely see him, and he didn't dislodge my hand from his face. "And I.....I scrambled down the ladder so fast I nearly fell and ran into the workroom, where I knew no one would find me. And I pleasured myself, thinking of it. Every time I've pleasured myself since then, I've thought of it. And every time I've laid with a woman. Bruce, is there something wrong with men like me, like us? Like the two men in the loft? Are we deranged?"  
I had to chuckle. "No, no. I don't believe there is anything wrong with it, and it happens much, much more than anyone realizes. When I was in school the dormitories were filled with sighs and moans at night, some of them mine. We are who God made us, Janick, and He would not have made us like this if it were wrong. I believe that with all my heart."  
I sensed that he needed to hear someone say that, because he had already come to the same conclusion himself. "When I had my first encounter with a boy I didn't enjoy it. I was fourteen and the smallest boy at school. I was more or less forced into it, it was only later I grew to enjoy it. Janick, I don't want your first time with another man to be unpleasant. I want for it to be with me."  
I heard Janick's breath catch. "If we did this, would you immediately dismiss me from the estate?"  
That question took me aback. "No! Of course not, why ever would I do that! I want you to stay. I.....I haven't had anyone other than Shadow to talk to for almost two years since I returned from school. I'm talking with you and it feels right, like you don't resent me or hold me in contempt."  
"I don't, Bruce. Of course I don't. I admire you a great deal. And.....," his voice lowered, almost embarrassed. "And I find you desirable."  
That was all it took for me to pull him close again, and this time his mouth sought mine as eagerly as mine sought his. I wound my fingers in his wavy, somewhat tangled hair, cupping the back of his head to draw him deeper into the kiss. He jumped slightly when I attempted to part his lips with my tongue, but then he parted them and I twisted my tongue around his. He tasted sweet, it was more than the fruit we had eaten, it was a natural sweetness. The stall still smelled of horse and slightly of the onions in the poultice on Shadow's leg but all I smelled was Janick - his hair, his skin, his very essence, and I wanted to immerse myself in him. I heard myself groan against his lips and he pulled away again but allowed me to continue to kiss his face and neck, finding a spot behind his ear to nip lightly that caused him to sigh with pleasure.  
Janick's hands rested on my chest as though he were afraid to move them, so I placed my own over them and brought them to my sides, moving up and down my ribs then my chest."It's all right to touch me Janick. I want you to touch me. There is nothing wrong that you can do."  
I removed my hands then relaxed, enjoying the sensation as he slowly began to explore my chest and back with his hands even as I returned to kissing and lightly nipping his neck and shoulders. I dared not leave a visible mark on his skin even though I very much wanted to. Instead I kissed then licked down his throat and to where the lacings to his jerkin were loose, revealing smooth, pale skin that almost seemed to glow in the faint light. He was so pale, the fairest skinned person I had ever seen and that included women, and his skin was smooth beneath my questing lips.  
Finally growing daring, Janick's hands crept beneath the hem of my tunic to gently brush across my stomach. He giggled a bit. "You are so hairy!"  
I smiled. "If it's unpleasant for you, you don't need to...."  
"No, no, I like it. It's....soft!" His hands continued their quest and I was so aroused I was beside myself, yet I knew I had to go slowly. And I wanted to go slowly, I wanted this to last.  
"Will you take off your jerkin?" I asked him, and without hesitation he unlaced it the rest of the way to his breastbone and pulled it over his head. I couldn't restrain myself from tracing my tongue down his slender, practically hairless chest. When my tongue circled then brushed across his nipple I was rewarded by a faint moan and a slight writhing of his slim body which nearly drove me insane with hunger for him.  
"I don't....." He was trying very hard not to gasp as I continued to work my mouth across his chest and stomach, "I don't want to be treated as a dalliance, Bruce. I don't treat women like that and I don't want to be treated like that."  
I stopped. It was suddenly crucial for me be sure he know my intentions. "I won't do that. And yes, I have treated others that way. I've been cruel and unfeeling, not caring when women said they wanted to see me again or expected me to care for them. But....," now I was struggling for words and it frustrated me. I sat up, still close to him but no longer touching him. "if you fear that I'll treat you badly, then we shouldn't continue. I don't want you unless you know you can trust me."  
Janick reached out toward me then, but lowered his hand before making contact. "All you need to do is tell me you won't stop talking with me. If you say you won't treat me differently, then I'll believe you."  
That surprised me. "Why would you? You have no reason to believe I would keep my word."  
"Perhaps I have no reason to, but I do."  
This had a greater impact on me than anything anyone had said to me in a very, very long time. This man, who admittedly I barely knew, believed me. In fact, he believed in me, which was a completely different thing. And I suddenly knew beyond the shade of a doubt that I was not going to let Janick down. I had always known Mother had faith in me but I also knew I had disappointed her many, many times, so Janick was the first to offer me blind trust since the day Lord Dickinson took me as a starving waif into his home to raise me as his son. I reached out for Janick's hand and held it between my own. It was warm and he curled his fingers around mine. No words were spoken but we had passed another milestone, our second that evening. We had gained one another's trust and now were admitting we had formed some sort of inexplicable bond with one another.  
Shadow stirred restlessly then, breaking into our thoughts, and Janick reluctantly let loose of my hand to turn the lantern up once again to check on him. There was enough oil for a few minutes, long enough for us to reassure ourselves that the horse was uncomfortable but resting as well as could be expected. I turned the lantern down again, the scent of the oil momentarily filling the stall, and Janick resumed his place at my side. We were both still shirtless and the straw was a little scratchy so I reached up and retrieved the woolen saddle blanket from where it was folded across the stall partition and spread it beneath us.  
A sense of uncertainty had fallen over us but I wanted very much for us to resume our earlier activities and evidently Janick did as well because he moved closer to me on the blanket, the warmth of him pressed against my side, and he let his hand rest lightly on my stomach. I closed my hand over his and pulled him over until he was half on top of me, finding his lips again. Lying as we were it was impossible to hide that we were both fully aroused and the feeling of him simply lying across my cock made me want to roll my hips up into him, though I knew it may well be over before too soon if I did. I restrained myself, distracting myself with the feel of his smooth skin against my hands as I explored every uncovered inch of his body, kissing him more and more passionately as I did.  
"Are we....are we going to do what I saw the men in the loft doing?" Janick asked against my neck, gasping slightly.  
"Only if you want to. If you don't, we can do other things that will feel almost as good."  
"I don't know what I want." he confessed, and I felt his tongue lightly brush across my collarbone.  
"Then tell me what you don't want, and I won't do it. I will not force you, Janick, and I will not coerce you. I want to pleasure you."  
For some reason my words made him moan against my skin and I felt him pressing his hardness against me, probably unconsciously but it still made my breath catch. I reached for the laces on the front of his breeches, moving slowly, but he made no move to stop me. I was desperate to feel him, and I was desperate for his touch as well so I hurriedly unbuttoned my own trousers and slid them down, kicking them off.  
My being nude must have given Janick confidence because he slipped his own breeches off as well and when I pulled him over me again it was flesh on flesh. I could feel his arousal and the slight trace of moisture there, and I knew he could feel that I was in the same state.  
"I've spent so many hours imagining something like this happening to me." he breathed as I moved him to where he lay on his back. I was growing impatient now, it was more difficult to contain my desire for him, but with an effort I kissed my way slowly down his chest again and across his flat, taut stomach. I reached his navel and circled it with my tongue, causing him to laugh breathlessly. I had never put in so much effort giving another pleasure before and I found it exhilarating in a way, prolonging the event was an exquisite torture and I was at least as excited as Janick.  
Finally my lips reached the downy hair inches below his navel and I was met with his hard member. I ventured a small lick to the head and Janick's body jerked.  
"No one had ever put their mouth there before." he whispered.  
"No one? Not even a whore?"  
"I haven't been with many whores. The occasional trollop at a faire, but mostly barmaids or chambermaids at places I've played. And..." his voice lowered in embarrassment, "not many of those."  
I gave another lick, with more pressure this time, straight up the underside of his cock. His only response was a drawn out moan.  
"Do you like that, Janick?"  
"Yes!" he gasped. "Please, do it more!"  
I intended to do much more than that. The next lick was followed by my taking him into my mouth just a little, and he made a muffled whining sound which he tried to suppress by placing his hand over his mouth.  
"Don't be afraid to make sounds of pleasure, Janick. There's no one to hear us but the horses."  
He was panting now, his stomach clenching with the effort of controlling himself and I knew it wouldn't be much longer until he lost control. I took him fully into my mouth then, something I never did with the gal-boys at the Molly houses and had only done a time or two at school. But I had been the recipient enough times to know what felt good and I intended to give Janick as much pleasure as I possibly could. I tightened my lips around him as my hand found his bollocks, fondling them, and I began to bob my head.  
As I expected it was only a minute, perhaps less, before Janick let out a long groan and my mouth was filled with his hot seed.

"Ohhh...." he gasped, unable to catch his breath, but I kept my lips around him until I was certain he was finished. I felt him reach down to gather my long hair behind my nape, stroking it. When his breathing had returned somewhat to normal he muttered something that nearly made me laugh in the circumstances.  
"Thank you, Bruce."  
I have never been thanked and I have never thanked anyone for giving me physical pleasure, but the fact that Janick did made my heart feel as if it were glowing. I raised up, though I was reluctant to kiss him in view of what we had just done.  
"There is no need to thank me," My voice was unusually soft. "I enjoyed it, I enjoyed it much more than I expected I would."  
"You had never done that?" He sounded surprised, "But you knew exactly how to......"  
I smiled. "I have done it but I didn't enjoy it then, it was more or less forced upon me. "  
"Still, you did not.....you must want to......," Janick didn't know how to say it but I knew if he was asking if I needed to reach my climax.  
"At this moment," I admitted ruefully, "I think a slight breeze would suffice."  
He laughed in spite of himself. "If it's all right, I would like to try to do for you what you did for me. It was one of the things I found most fascinating when I saw those two men. The one giving pleasure seemed to be enjoying it as much as the man receiving it. I....,well, you know I'm not skilled but I would very much like the chance to attempt it."  
"Oh yes!" I knew I sounded needy but I was so filled with lust for him I didn't care. "Yes, please do!"  
"Can I kiss you?"  
"Of course, but I haven't rinsed my mouth.....," I began.  
"I don't care!" and he brought his mouth to mine, kissing me with a hunger that surprised me for a man who had just reached his satisfaction. Then he moved over me and I felt that he was half aroused again already, and I lay back as I felt his kisses grow in confidence as he lost himself in exploring these feelings he had kept locked in his mind for so many years. He seemed fascinated with my abundant chest hair, running his fingers through it and following with kisses. When his tongue darted out to touch my nipple, no doubt taking his cue from what I had done for him, I couldn't hold back a moan and involuntarily bucked my hips, unintentionally causing my erection to brush against his smooth stomach. I almost lost control then and was glad when he continued exploring my chest and stomach, distracting me from the ache because I felt I was ready to burst.  
After an interminable time, I felt Janick's fingers tentatively move down my hip bones, circling slowly closer and to closer to where I needed his touch so badly. Rather than touching my cock, however, he cupped my bollocks and suddenly without warning I felt his lips close softly over my member.  
"Oh, bloody hell..." I groaned, arching into his touch. Taking that as encouragement, he grew bolder and tightened his lips, applying some suction as I felt his tongue explore the head. "Janick....Janick, I can't stand that for long."  
He removed his lips for a brief moment. "Then don't!" he murmured against my skin, immediately returning to what he was doing, dipping lower and repeating the movements I had used with him. I clutched his hair, tangling my fingers in it, trying not to pull but beyond any pretense of control by this time.  
I felt myself spiraling higher and higher until my mind blanked, my entire being was centered on the feeling on Janick's mouth on me and I gave a hoarse cry, exploding with the strongest orgasm I can ever remember experiencing.  
Gradually I regained awareness of my surroundings, unaware if I had been out for seconds or minutes. I felt Janick's head resting on my stomach, his fingers still combing through my body hair and my hands were still resting on his head. I untangled my fingers from his locks and gently stroked his head, still unable to speak, reflecting over the past few minutes. Never had I felt such an intensity, not only of physical sensation but something else as well, something on a more personal, emotional level. After a few minutes, Janick spoke hesitantly. "Did I do it right?"  
I couldn't hold back a chuckle and I reached down, pulling him up until he was nestled close to my side. "I can truthfully tell you that this was the best I have ever experienced."  
He looked up from where his head lay on my shoulder. "Surely you're not serious!"  
"I am, I swear to you. I am many, many things but I do not speak untruths. Can I ask you, was this as you imagined it would be?"  
"No," he said softly, and for a moment I felt my heart constrict. Then his arms circled around me. "It was better, much better than I could have ever imagined."  
I tightened my arms around him as well. "I am pleased to hear that, Janick. This means perhaps you would consider doing this again."  
"I hope to." he murmured against my chest, and I realized he was close to sleep.  
I shook his shoulder gently and kissed his cheek. "We had best put our clothes back on. It's not unusual that we stayed all night with an injured horse, but it would be rather unusual if we were found naked."  
He laughed softly, and the sound ignited a warmth inside me that was a confusing but very good, comforting feeling. We pulled our clothes back on before falling asleep, Janick still nestled to my side. If Arthur or Gerard discovered us lying close it would only be assumed we were seeking warmth in the cool night.

Janick:  
I was awakened by the scuffling sound of Shadow as he tried to rise, and I crept over to stroke and calm him until he relaxed and lay back down. It was almost dawn, the time I usually wakened, but I looked over to see Bruce still sleeping on his side, his straight brown hair tumbling over his face, his face darkened with stubble from having not shaved. I returned to his side, not touching him but unable to keep from looking at him. In sleep his face was so unguarded, his long fringe nearly obscuring his eyes, his lips pursed slightly as he snored softly. I could almost convinced myself that the events of the night had been a dream, a vivid dream of the type that had so often caused me to awaken in embarrassment with the remains of my seed drying on my thighs. But I knew it had not been a dream this time, and I was in awe that it had been Bruce Dickinson, of all people, who had finally initiated me into the things I had secretly dreamed of for so long. A member of the landed gentry, yet not exactly one of them. A rebellious, self destructive young man who had let that facade slip last night and had shown a kind, gentle nature toward both his horse, then toward me.  
As I sat watching him, his eyes suddenly opened. It was as though he came awake instantly but I sensed that he had been laying there awake for some minutes, aware that I was watching him. My first fear was that he would awaken angry and resentful at having shown care and even tenderness toward me, but that fear was soon allayed. His eyes were bleary with sleep but their expression was gentle, and he smiled.  
"How is Shadow?" he asked, confirming my suspicion that the horses movements had awakened him as they had myself.  
"The swelling seems less and he is restless, but he shouldn't try to stand as yet."  
Bruce reached out, catching the tips of my tangled hair in his fingers. "And how are you doing?"  
I smiled and gave him a completely honest answer. "I am doing wonderfully!"  
He laughed a bit at that and sat up to a position against the stable partition. "What happened between you and I was very intense, was it not? "  
"Intense is the least I could say about it." I agreed. I had been thinking as I was watching him and I wondered if I dared ask him something. "Bruce....and I will continue to call you Master Dickinson when others are around, never fear....but you said something last night about....," I was suddenly feeling awkward in the brightness of the room, under the gaze of his bright, penetrating eyes and I looked away.  
"About what?" He prompted me, his voice low and matter-of-fact.  
"About perhaps doing what we did again some time."  
He smiled, then grinned outright. "I am counting on it, Master Gers, if you are willing."  
I had to return his grin. "I believe you'll find me more than willing. And do not worry, I will be discreet."  
"I know you will. I only wish people who enjoy what we enjoy together did not have to be discreet."  
"We could be thrown in prison, or worse. Buggery is a serious crime, not to mention a sin."  
Bruce nodded. "Yes, but I have been fortunate so far and I'm not worried. And, I could point out," he gave a wicked grin, "we haven't actually engaged in buggery."  
I must have flushed nine shades of red, but at the same time I felt a quiver of excitement travel through me at the thought. I had witnessed that as well in the hayloft that fateful day, and I had watched as the men had contorted in throes of profound ecstasy before reaching their culmination. I felt myself twitch down below even thinking of it, and from the look on Bruce's face, he had felt the same tingle pass through him.  
We both jumped when Arthur's voice sounded outside the stable, speaking with Gerard about the tasks they had to accomplish that day. Arthur came inside then and Bruce stepped forward calling out to him, but as he passed me he caught my hand and squeezed it briefly.  
"Arthur!" He called. "Shadow has a sprain. Master Janick has been helping me care for him but I'd like you to have a look at him, if you would."  
Arthur was possibly the most jovial old man one could imagine among his peers, but he was unfailingly loyal to both Bruce and Lady Dickinson and he hurried to Shadow's stall, immediately bending over the horse.  
"Oh yes, yes, it's a nasty sprain but he will be fine in a few days. The barley and onion poultice surely helped reduce the swelling."  
"That was Master Janick's idea." Bruce shot me a smile, which Arthur couldn't see as he was still stooped over the horse.  
"I think I have some dried arnica, I'll crush some up and rub it on the sprain. " Arthur was saying as he got stiffly to his feet. "You should get some sleep, Master Dickinson. You as well, young Gers, you both look as though you've had a rough night."  
I looked down, certain I was blushing, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Bruce fighting back a grin. I said nothing, however, merely telling Arthur if he needed me for anything to come and knock on my room. "I did get some rest last night" I said, my face still feeling hot, "so I'll only need a nap of an hour or two."  
"Take all the time you need, we don't have a great deal to do today. " Arthur dismissed me with a wave and I made my way into the house. Bruce stayed in the stable with Shadow but from my window I saw him leave a few minutes later, coming across the courtyard. He paused for the briefest second, looking toward the servants wing as though he was wondering which room was mine, then he went in the main door.  
I did feel the need for some sleep but once I lay in my narrow bed I found I couldn't. The images and sensations of the night before kept running through my mind and I found myself aroused. Only after I'd gratified myself could I manage a couple of hours sleep.  
That evening I played music as Bruce and Lady Dickinson dined as usual, but I sensed something different. They spoke together more and in between my songs I caught snatches of the conversation. They were discussing estate business, which tenants rents were due and which should have their rent reduced due to some unfortunate circumstance such as a death or illness in the family. I could tell by her expression that her ladyship was surprised but immensely pleased that Bruce had brought the subject up and was genuinely interested. I played quiet tunes so as not to distract from their discussion but several times I looked down to see Bruce look up at me, and whereas once I interpreted his look as calculating and even judgmental I now saw warmth in his eyes, and even caught him smile at me a time or two while his mother was occupied with her meal. It was a few days, however, before I again spoke with Bruce. I saw him about the estate as I worked with either Arthur of Gerard, and he seemed to be conferring with either his mother or Arthur and a few people I recognized as tenants but whom I did not know. If he saw me, I felt his eyes on me even if I hadn't been aware of his presence, and if I turned to look I would get a quick smile or a small wave if no one was watching.  
By the end of the week I was helping Gerard clean the chicken house and chanced to look out of the dingy window to see Bruce in the fenced area near the stables slowly walking Shadow, giving him some exercise. The horse still favored his injured leg but seemed to be nearly fully recovered, and I watched in a kind of fascination and Bruce stroked the animals sleek neck. I could see he was speaking, no doubt words of encouragement, and I felt myself smile without realizing it at first. It would be some time before Shadow was able to go for the wild gallops Bruce so loved but his love for the horse took precedence and it gave me a feeling that it took me a moment to identify as fondness for him. Fondness coupled with admiration for the strength of his compact build, the sheen of his long, straight russet hair, the easy smile that crossed his lips when Shadow nudged his head against his shoulder.  
Bruce was a unique individual, troubled in ways, but beneath it all I now knew he had a kind heart and caring nature. My thoughts gravitated toward him almost constantly and not only of our encounter in the stables but thoughts about every aspect of the man. How had he come to be a small child stealing eggs to simply stay alive? Who had his parents been? Had they died or simply abandoned him? The fear and trauma he must have experienced when he was barely old enough to walk was unimaginable. And of the few references he had made to his experiences at school I felt great empathy. He had been bullied and, it seemed, sexually assaulted by his schoolmates. The unexpected death of Lord Dickinson, his benefactor and the only man he had ever known as a father, had affected him deeply, affected him so deeply that after ten years he was still struggling to come to terms with the loss.  
Over a week had passed since our encounter together and though I played for Bruce and his mother as they dined each evening there had been no opportunity to see him alone. I played more quietly these days because Bruce and his mother were often engaged in conversation and he was present every evening, having not once gone into town to visit the taverns or whorehouses. It was not simply due to Shadow being unable to be ridden, for there were several other horses he could have chosen from. He seemed to be enjoying his mother's company, and I did not miss his frequent glances up to the gallery where I played. Each time I met his eyes I felt an odd sensation, not in my nether regions as might be expected but in my chest, a feeling I could only describe as being very pleasant.  
I had been helping Gerard dig a drainage ditch on a rainy day as the gardens were becoming flooded, and returned to the house wet, muddy, and weary. Inside the servants entrance was a small anteroom where we could take off our heavier coats or soiled footwear in inclement weather and I sank on the bench there, pulling off my mud-caked boots when I felt eyes upon me. I knew before I looked up that it was Bruce. Somehow I always sensed when he was around. He stood in the doorway to the kitchens and looked at me without speaking for a moment, then spoke, his voice quiet although there was no one else about.  
"Which of the rooms is yours, Janick?"  
"The third door down the hallway." I managed to say, though my throat felt clenched.  
"And if I were to come to your chamber tonight, would you let me inside?"  
I heard my voice tremble. "You know I will."  
He glanced behind him then at the empty kitchen then came over to me, quickly leaning to kiss me, then he was gone. I sat there with my heart hammering against my ribs, my muddy boots forgotten on the floor, my clothes wet and uncomfortable, and I took no notice of any of it. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how very much I wanted to be intimate with Bruce again.

 

Bruce:  
I had been seeking a chance to speak to Janick for days, but now that I was learning how the estate operated I had been occupied. There was do much to learn, things I had never even considered. The cost of seed for crops, engaging workers to mow the hayfields that were now nearing readiness, balancing the books of household expenses and repairs to the estate. For the past ten years Mother had taken care of all of these details, advised of course by the staff in certain areas, and my admiration for her grew beyond measure. Most widows would have either engaged a full time manager for an estate this size or would have simply sold some of the property, but mother had done neither. She had been so surprised when I first began to ask questions that her jaw literally dropped, but now that we had been working closely for a week she made her appreciation and gratitude clear. Not in words so much, but in her voice, her tone and her expression. She never asked why I had a sudden change of attitude and if she had I couldn't have said. I knew only that behind it was the influence of Janick Gers.  
I watched him more than I think he was aware, often standing in my chambers upstairs looking out at him as he worked about the stables and grounds. He was slender but strong, sometimes he wore a thin muslin tunic now that the warm weather had arrived and as he worked and perspired, the material clung to him, showing his strong back and his perfectly formed arse. He always seemed to have a smile for everyone, he would joke with Gerard when the old man's arthritis was causing him pain to take his mind off the discomfort and I already knew through Mother how highly Arthur thought of him. I had been standing at the window of the drawing room, Mother had been showing me how to read the complicated rent ledgers but she had gone for her afternoon rest and I looked outside to see Janick coming toward the house, wet from the rain, his shoulders sagging wearily but still with a spring in his step. I hurried down to the kitchens, glad of a chance to speak with him in private.

But now that the household was asleep and I was outside the door he had indicated as his, I hesitated. It was ridiculous, I told myself. It was utterly absurd for me to be nervous when I had bedded a dozen women and several boys as well. Yet I was. My stomach felt as though there were bird wings beating inside it and my heart was racing. I took a deep breath, and knocked, just once.  
Janick opened the door immediately and I knew then that he had been waiting for me. I remembered this room, I realized. I had dallied with a maid here a time or two. The one I had supposedly gotten with child, in fact, though that was no longer the case. The room was lit by a small fire in the hearth and two candles in pewter holders on the simple table that, along with a wooden chair, was the only furniture in the room other than the bed. The room was neat and it smelled of Janick, a fresh, outdoorsy scent that made me want to bury my face in his hair and simply breathe him in.  
He opened the door wide without a word. I entered and other thoughts fled my mind.  
He smiled at me a bit hesitantly and I knew immediately that he was nervous as well. Our encounter in the stable had been impulsive and unplanned but this time we both knew why I was here, and we both knew what we wanted.  
"I've missed you." I told him. It sounded foolish, we had seen one another a dozen times, though only from afar.  
"I've missed you too." He replied simply, taking a small step toward me. Before I was conscious that I had even moved I swept him into my arms, but my kiss was tender. I wanted to savour the feeling on his lips on mine, I wanted to taste him again and feel his warmth against me. He put his hands lightly on my shoulders, then as I deepened the kiss he moved them around to my back, tightening his arms around me. I felt him part his lips and I greedily thrust my tongue between them, loving the slippery sensation as his tongue curled around mine. We were pressed so close together I could feel his heartbeat, he wore his thin homespun tunic over his usual long breeches and his feet were bare.  
I moved away from his lips only because I could no longer resist the temptation to bury my face in his long, silky hair, kissing his neck as I did so. We still stood in the center of the room so I took his hand and led him to the bed, sitting on the edge and drawing him close again.  
"What are you going to do with me, Bruce?" Janick asked, the bare hint of trembling in his voice.  
"Nothing you don't want me to." I was still kissing his neck and throat, murmuring against his skin, "but anything you will let me. I want to do so much with you, Janick!" My hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, marveling all over again at how smooth the skin of his stomach was as I circled my hand across it, and at my touch he let out a sound between a sigh and a moan.  
"If you touch me like that," he all but gasped, "I'll let you do anything, absolutely anything!"  
At his words I felt myself become impossibly hard, because both he and I knew what he meant. "Only when you're ready," I pulled the tunic over his head then, "only when you are ready."  
"Let me touch you..." Janick mumbled in my ear, his mouth working at my neck. "Let me see you and touch you."  
I drew away just enough to pull my jerkin off and loosen the ties on my breeches before his hands were on me, long, slim fingers raking gently though my body hair, his mouth moving lower and lower on my neck and chest. I lay back on the narrow bed and he followed, lying partially over me, his hands and mouth working pure magic on my skin. I couldn't keep my hands out of his long, beautiful hair, awestruck by it's silky texture and shivering as it brushed across my skin as he kissed down my torso.  
I heard myself speaking my thoughts aloud as they rushed through my mind, things I've never revealed to another living soul and would never have believed I would. "I want you so much, Janick. More than I've ever wanted anyone. What have you done to me? You've enchanted me and I am loving it!"  
I felt the breath of his laughter against my stomach and I pulled him up to where I could kiss him again, turning us over so that I was now lying nearly on top of him. I knew he could feel the urgency of my desire for him because he moved his leg against me, rubbing slightly against my groin and causing me to groan aloud. In return I slid my hand lower on his stomach, unlacing his breeches and slipping my fingers inside. He was burning hot and moist with his need for release, and as soon as my fingertips brushed him he threw his head back, that glorious hair spreading across the pillow and his back arching into my touch. "Bruce...." my name came from his lips almost as a hiss. "Your mere touch sends me to the brink of insanity."  
He had phrased it perfectly, as his touch was doing the same for me. He had worked open my trousers and was trying to slide them down so I moved far enough apart from him to do so, then when I lay back down I realized he was now completely nude as well. Our engorged cocks came into immediate contact sending a shiver through us both, yet we involuntarily ground them together, our lips meeting again in a kiss so torrid I knew I had to calm myself down. I felt a compulsion to go slow with Janick, relish my time with him because these opportunities to be together may be few and far between.  
The next kiss was gentler, a tender touch of the lips, and I looked at him lying almost beneath me, his eyes bright in the dim firelight and filled with emotion. There was more than sexual desire there, there was ardor but something else, something that filled me with a rush of affection for this man. Affection was something I had avoided feeling for anyone since losing my father. I was deeply fond of mother, of course, but had suppressed forming any other attachments and though I was loathe to admit it, I knew I was afraid of being hurt and abandoned. Looking into Janick's clear gray eyes, however, I felt no such fear. He was the most sincere, genuine, open person I had ever met and in spite of my having not known him for long, I had no doubt that my intuition about this was correct.  
As though his thoughts were following a similar vein, Janick asked me, "Are you and I friends, Bruce?"  
There was no doubt, and no hesitation on my part. I leaned to kiss him softly again. "We are friends, Janick. Friends, and more."  
He smiled. "I'm glad. I'm very glad."  
"As am I!" I pulled him to me tightly, no longer able to hold back. I wanted to feel him against me, all around me, every inch of him but a few specific inches in particular. Our hands returned to exploring one another, there was a sense akin to wonder in it as we didn't merely touch, we caressed one another, absorbing the sensation of the flesh beneath our fingers and our lips. It felt otherworldly, yet it was intensely sexual . It was intoxicating, and I felt as if I were in a haze as I watched Janick. He kept eye contact with me until my hand loosely closed around him, giving only the slightest pressure. His eyes closed then and an indescribably blissful look came over his face, a quiet sigh escaping him. I felt his hands on my hips then cautiously circling around to my buttocks, kneading then stroking my skin, growing bolder.  
I worked my way down his chest, impatient to taste him again, but as I softly kissed the tip of his cock he tightened his fingers on my shoulders.  
"If you continue, I won't be able to stand it. I.....I want to experience more, Bruce. But I'm afraid it will hurt."  
I had a flashback to my first time of being penetrated and remembered not only the tearing pain but the humiliation. I would not put Janick through that.  
"It can," I admitted honestly, "but usually for just a moment or two. And over the past few years I've discovered more about how it can be done, how to make it more pleasurable. We can do this, but we don't have to. I want you to know that. You never have to do anything you don't want to with me."  
"But I do want to," Janick admitted softly, those clear gray eyes only inches from mine. "I trust you not to hurt me any more than necessary."  
That kind of unwavering trust couldn't be betrayed, and I had an idea. "Can you wait here for just a minute or two? I will be right back, I promise."  
I stood and slipped my trousers back on, not even bothering to fasten them, and grabbed one of the candles. Leaving Janick's room I found the larder just off the nearby kitchen and rummaged through the shelves until I found what I sought, hurrying back to Janick's room. He was still lying on the bed, one hand over his genitals but I wasn't sure whether it was from modesty or because he had been stroking himself. Removing my pants again, I lay back next to him, holding up a small wooden bowl.  
"What is that?" Janick looked a little doubtful.  
I grinned "Butter! I know it sounds ridiculous, but it will help ease the initial pain"  
He giggled a little then, but the lustful look was still in his eyes and when I leaned back over him he wrapped his arms and then his legs around me. The sensation was excruciatingly arousing and we kissed fervidly for a few more minutes then I reached over to the small table by the bed and dipped my fingertips in the soft butter. Almost without his being aware of it I crept my fingers below his balls, sliding my slippery fingers across and around his opening.  
It was immediately obvious he enjoyed it, he writhed beneath me and tightened his thighs around the backs on my legs, groaning my name beneath his breath. It was erotic beyond anything I had ever experienced and I ventured to carefully slip a buttery finger inside just a little. His eyes widened with the unusual sensation, but I was very careful, letting him get used to it as I distracted him with kisses and sliding my hand along his cock.  
"That isn't bad. But you are much bigger than your finger...,"  
For an answer I once again dipped into the butter and very carefully added a second finger. He stiffened, I could see that this was more uncomfortable.  
"Do you want to stop?" I asked, licking his ear.  
Nnn..no. Just please, go slowly. I'll be okay. I really want this, Bruce. I've wondered for so long what it would be like."  
I was painstakingly gentle with him in spite of being half out of my mind with desire for him. By the time I added a third finger he seemed more relaxed, in part because my other hand, also with a slight coating of butter, was tightening around his cock and slowly tugging.  
I spoke softly into his ear, my face immersed in that sweet-scented hair. "I'm going to try this, but if you want me to stop, all you need do is ask."  
He nodded, he seemed to be aroused beyond the point of speech by now, so I applied butter to myself, sliding up tight between his legs until I felt myself brush against him. Dear God, this was heaven and I hadn't even breached him as of yet.  
I moved slowly, ever so slowly, until I felt myself slip past the tight ring of muscle. Janick flinched slightly but I gave him time to adjust the strange and, to him, completely new sensation. He was kissing me, his tongue darting out to give little licks to my neck and shoulders, and I moved without consciously intending to. He gasped and I felt a flash of alarm, but then I looked down at him and saw no alarm in his eyes, no apprehension at all, just a sort of longing.  
He tightened his legs, drawing me deeper until I slowly filled him, then after a brief hesitation I began to move. I felt his hardness between us, rubbing against the hair on my stomach as I moved.  
He arched against me and I knew his apprehension had given away to randiness, he clutched at my shoulders but them moved his hands down to my buttocks, pulling me tight, beginning to move with me.  
He was so tight, so hot, and so beautiful lying beneath me and he still gazed up at me, his eyes clouded now with lust, and I could tell by his movements, by the pressure he put against me, by the extra dampness in the hair of my stomach, that he was nearing his climax. Without warning, he arched completely off the mattress with a low, keening cry and I felt his hot seed between us. It was too much for me, I couldn't hold back and I raised up, throwing my head back, my body wracked with shudders as I ejaculated. He was still trembling, spasms convulsing through him, and he reached up, pulling me down tightly against him again.  
I lay against his shoulder, completely sated and unsure if I would ever be capable of moving from that spot. And I wasn't sure I ever wanted to. I raised my head to find him looking at me, his gaze still clouded with ecstasy, then he smiled.  
At that very moment I realized I had fallen in love for the first time in my life. I was in love with Janick Gers.

 

Janick:

I lay there with Bruce's amber eyes only inches from mine as he looked down at me, and the only way I could explain the look that dawned in his eyes was of the sun peeking from behind clouds. I didn't know what it meant, in light of what had just taken place I couldn't think coherently, but it made me feel as though I was glowing from within. I was aware that I was smiling but I couldn't seem to stop. I felt somehow complete for the first time in many years. I had always had a sense of confusion about myself, as though somehow my neutral interest in women and my persistent thoughts of the two men I had witnessed when I was young somehow marked me as peculiar. I was all too aware it was unconventional to say the least but I had found someone I trusted enough to reveal my secret to and who not only didn't judge me but even nurtured these feelings.  
Bruce leaned to give me a soft kiss, his long hair falling as a curtain around us, then rolled to my side, the narrow bed making it necessary to lie close but neither of us minded. Instinctively I lay close as possible to Bruce. The fire had burned low and the only light was from the two candles. The silence was content, we felt satisfied and appeased.  
"I wish I didn't have to return to my own rooms." Bruce said eventually, his voice quiet and wistful.  
"I do as well." I sighed into his neck. I was feeling stirrings of arousal again simply from lying so near him. We both knew it would be out of the question for him to be discovered in the servants area, especially since the remaining female servants were all married and all except Agnes went home in the evenings to their homes and families removing even that excuse. ""Can you stay a little longer?" I trailed a kiss up his neck to his ear, nipping lightly at it.  
He breathed out a sigh of contentment and turned to meet my kiss, sensing my mood. "Perhaps just a bit."  
He stayed another hour but after another session of lovemaking even more heated than the first he kissed me lingeringly after redressing. I sat on the edge of the bed, still nude, already feeling a sense of emptiness at the though he was leaving.  
"I'm not sure when I will be able to return." he told me. "If I'm absent from my chamber too often it will be too risky. But I will return soon, as soon as I can. Nothing can keep me away."  
One last kiss and he left, looking back at me at the door. I managed a smile but I know he wasn't fooled, neither of us wanted to part. 

The following days were difficult, and I knew instinctively they were equally difficult for Bruce. I saw him often, often in deep discussion with Arthur or Gerard or even Agnes. They were compiling a list of repairs needed for the estate and determining which were the most urgent, then he would spend hours in the study at a desk, pouring over books trying to reallocate the funds to have the repairs performed. I went about my daily work, helping the men outside and performing indoor tasks too heavy for Agnes or the maids such as moving furniture or rolling up rugs and carrying them outdoors to be cleaned. Arthur helped to the best of his ability and it was the same with the outdoor chores, with my taking as much of the burden as possible from the aged Gerard. But I would see Bruce from afar several times each day and every time I as much as glimpsed him I felt something in my chest quiver. Oddly enough it wasn't until the night that my thoughts turned to our sexual escapades. Then, no matter how weary my body was, I longed for the feel of Bruce beside me, the scent of him, the straight soft hair of his chest beneath my fingers, and I couldn't sleep without indulging in self gratification.  
It was a poor substitute indeed.

Bruce still drank when he ate dinner with her ladyship each evening and at times he had a bit too much, but to the best of my knowledge his trips to the taverns and brothels ceased. And I would have known, as I slept lightly and would surely have heard his return outside my window. Shadow was fully recovered now but Bruce was still gentle with him, they rode but no more of the wild jaunts that had been his habit. It had frightened him badly, I think, that he had injured the horse and he took no more chances.  
The next time Lady Dickinson requested a music gathering in the parlour we had begun as usual with my accompanying her ladyship as she played the harpsichord. She played the clavichord too, I learned, and one day the previous week Arthur and I had moved a dusty one from an unused room into the parlour, so there was some variety that evening. Bruce didn't volunteer to sing, listening to his mother and I play as he sat sipping port brandy, but after half a dozen songs he spoke up unexpectedly.  
"Do you play instruments other than the cittern, Master Janick?"  
I was a little surprised he had spoken directly to me, as it hadn't been our habit to speak to one another in the presence of others, but I answered readily enough. "I learned a bit of mandolin and zither from people who stayed at my Grandparent's inn but haven't played either in years."  
"Hmmm....perhaps we can obtain one of those for you. Pity none of the guests taught you to fence."  
I laughed a little, now understanding where he was leading. He was trying to not only find an excuse for he and I to have time together but he was also looking for some sort of physical exercise. Bruce was a physically active man and while he was putting his best efforts into learning the operations of the estate, he sometimes reminded me of a caged wild animal, pacing restlessly, impatient with the slow routine of records keeping and the necessary desk work required.  
I knew my reply would surprise and, hopefully, please him. "Actually we had a frequent guest, a man from France, I believe, who often sailed with Father who took it upon himself out of sheer boredom to teach me a few things. We only used wooden swords, of course, and I remember very little now of anything he taught me."  
As I halfway expected, Bruce beamed at me, obviously surprised and pleased. "I wonder if you could find time to spare in your work to spar with me sometimes? I feel I need to keep my skills sharp and a bit of physical exercise would be good."  
Before I could even respond, Lady Dickinson piped in with one of her characteristic delighted squeals. "What a wonderful idea, Bruce! I'm sure Arthur and Gerard could spare Master Janick for a few hours at times ."  
I was pleased at the idea of spending time with Bruce, but I knew he was an excellent swordsman. "I am not nearly skilled enough to give you any challenge, Master Dickinson!"  
"It will simply be to keep my skills sharp. We will use wooden swords, do not fear. I will not hurt you." When he said that last bit, the look in his eyes conveyed so much more than his words. He was telling me not only would he not hurt me in swordplay, but that he wouldn't hurt me in any way.

It did not surprise me when, close to midnight that night, I heard a discreet tap on my door. I opened it, immediately swept into a deep, passionate kiss by Bruce which seemed to overwhelm me completely. I met his passion with equal fervor, however, but rather than immediately lead me over to the bed, as I half expected, he instead produced a thick soft blanket he'd left folded in the hall and spread it before my tiny fireplace, taking my hand and pulling me down to sit with him on it. It shielded us from the cool stone floor and the warmth of the fire was more than enough to keep us comfortable. After sitting, Bruce kept hold of my hand, looking at me with that intense expression he so often had. I simply smiled, I could not help myself when I was near him, feeling the strength of his fingers gripping mine and the heat of his thigh pressed against me.  
"You do not mind, do you," he began, "that I volunteered you to practice swordplay with me? "  
"Of course not," I spoke without thinking. "I will do anything for you." The moment it left my lips I realized how it sounded, but I couldn't find it within me to regret the words because they were true. Bruce looked at me directly, looking as though he wanted to say something but thought better of it. He continued to look at me, his thumb making small circles on the back of my hand, then I couldn't stop myself, I leaned into him and grazed a light kiss to his cheek. "I mean that, Bruce." I said, so quietly I was almost whispering, and I could hear the emotion in my own voice. "I would do anything for you."  
"Why?"  
Bruce's question was simple, but possibly the most difficult question I had ever had to answer. I faltered, but was unable to look away from his eyes. It took a bit of courage on my part, but I was honest with him. "Because I care about you. I care about you very much. I have had possibly a half dozen opportunities in the past few years to indulge in....what we do. I have never acted upon them. I was willing enough with the women, it didn't seem to matter as much with them, but with a man.....I couldn't do this unless I trusted a man or cared for him the way I do you, Bruce."  
"Yet you know what sort of man I am....or at least, the sort I had been until you came into my life. Up until now my life has revolved around getting blind drunk and fucking any wench or fancy-boy that was willing to accept a shilling. I am not worthy of anyone's trust, let alone affection."  
"If I believed that, I would not let you into my chamber, whether you be my employer or not."  
He was silent for a long time, staring now into the flames of my fireplace. "I don't want you to think of me as your employer. It makes me feel as though you are with me because you feel an obligation."  
"I am with you," My voice was firm and emphatic now, "because I want to be. Because I care for you and enjoy what we have together. Remember, Bruce, I did not ask for this position here at the manor and can go back to the roads at any time. But I don't want to. I want to be here. I want to be with you."  
By Bruce's slow smile, I knew I had said exactly what he wanted to hear. The more I learned about him, the more I realized that no matter how deeply he hid them,  
he had a number of insecurities, which was understandable in light of his early childhood and his school experiences. He drew me close to him then, holding me, not even kissing me but merely holding me and it felt so warm and safe and right. I thought of my Grandparents who had raised me, of the deep regard they had for one another and how fond they had been of each other. That, I had always assumed, was what the poets referred to as love. And that was what I felt for Bruce.  
When Bruce and I made love that night, for that is what it was, lovemaking, not merely fucking, the certainty of my feelings for Bruce grew in me. I dared not think of our impossible situation, of our being two men of two vastly different walks of life, I just let myself enjoy the moment. I knew I would be plagued by those worries later after Bruce returned to his own rooms, but whatever the end result may be of what we felt for one another, I knew that as long as he possible could he would come to me and we would find a way to be together.  
The next afternoon after I had helped Gerard trim the landscaping, Bruce and I started our sword exercises. It gave us an excuse to spend time together without  
it seeming odd and arousing suspicion and as we sparred, we talked and joked together. We spent over two hours and Bruce was very careful not to hurt me because it was obvious that with his skill he could inflict serious damage even with a wooden practice sword. Fortunately I had good reflexes and was nimble so could give him a workout without having to posses any sword skills of my own . It became a routine for us. Some days I was engaged in some pressing work about the manor and other days Bruce was caught up in learning to run the manor, but every few days we were able to find some time to take our places in a corner of the courtyard and not only get some exercise but get to know one another and appreciate one another. It was immediately obvious that he and I were in sync in so many ways aside from the obvious sexual attraction that led us together in the first place. We had a very similar sense of humor and although the ways in which we had learned were vastly different, we had a shared appreciation of many things. Music was one, obviously, but he also loved to hear tales of the towns I had traveled to and the experiences I had, and I in turn loved to hear him talk of the few subjects in school that he had enjoyed such as literature and history. Mostly though it was the sheer pleasure of being together, laughing together, watching his amber eyes light with mischief as he would feint to see me jump aside only to suddenly find him in my path without my having seen him move. He would laugh and clasp me on the shoulder when he would catch me unawares like that, and to the casual observer it was merely a clasp but Bruce would always let his fingers linger or trail down my arm, sending shivers through me.

 

Bruce:  
I can say without reservation that Janick is the closest friend I had ever known. In contrast to my moodiness he seemed to constantly be of good cheer and laughed easily, always ready with a witty retort when I would tease him as we toyed with our wooden swords, and I noted that should he ever want to he had the potential to become quite good at fencing. Sometimes his moves caught me off guard, he was agile and had a way of twisting his hips to avoid my pretend blows in a way that distracted me to the point where he was able to disarm me a time or two.  
"You are doing that deliberately," I teased him. "You know when you skip around in that way I cannot concentrate."  
He grinned at me "Why do you think I do it? I'm trying to entice you into paying me a visit tonight!"  
I groaned in frustration, for my visits to his room called for stealth and complete secrecy which wasn't always possible. My chambers were next to my mother's and she often stayed up late, she was an avid reader and if I saw lamplight from beneath her door I dared not skip out for fear she would hear me. It was different from when I used to go carousing as I always left in the early evening then and it was no secret where I was going. For me to be slipping out of my rooms at midnight would require an explanation I wasn't sure I could manufacture. Also, there was the fact Mother and I spent much more time together now that I was being schooled in the responsibilities of running the manor and she often gave me tasks to do, books to balance or lists to compile that kept me up late to the point where I simply fell asleep of exhaustion. I'll grant that it sometimes took me longer to complete these tasks because my thoughts constantly strayed to Janick. Sometimes it was nearly a week between my visits to his room and seeing him go about his work every day only added to the frustration. Somehow he seemed to know when I was about, he would turn and look at me and even across the expanse of the lawns I could feel his eyes lock onto mine. Other times I would see him from the windows of the house when he didn't know I was watching. For someone so slim he was strong, I would see him toss heavy sacks of grain from the wagon into the granary or watch as he helped Gerard chop fallen trees into firewood , and as it was high summer now he often wore a sleeveless tunic. My physical desire for him was an entity of it's own, it was do powerful, but I would also see how solicitous he was of the older staff, taking on their tasks in such a way that they weren't left feeling useless and infirm, smiling and laughing with them, even getting the usually taciturn Gerard to laugh with him.  
My growing love for Janick was a serious problem, I was fully aware of that. It was wonderful, it was exhilarating, but in my heart I knew it could not last forever. One day he would want to move on, go back to the roads, or worse yet, we would be discovered. I had no idea what would happen if that were the case. I am not generally a worrier, but on the nights when for some reason or other I couldn't go to Janick I lay alone and worrisome thoughts overtook me. I was happy I had started learning the business of the estate, it filled my heart to see how pleased mother was and, much to my surprise, I did not miss the bawdy houses or getting blind drunk several nights a week. I still drank, of course. In fact, often Janick and I indulged in some mead or homemade beer after our sword exercises, but the resentment that had driven me to more extreme behavior had simply seemed to vanish once I became close to Janick. If I had him, I needed no other diversions.

Janick and I had just finished a rather rigorous sparring session in the courtyard, . He was learning enough about swordplay now to give me more of a challenge and I toyed with the idea of our graduating from practice swords to an actual foil. Around the far end of the stable was a low stone wall and we rested there, each with a tankard of ale procured from the room where Arthur toyed with beer making. The beer was heavy, not quite mature yet, but thirst quenching on such a hot August day. Janick had worked up a sweat, the un dyed muslin shirt clinging to him, his bared arms glistening with sweat, and I found myself hardening with desire for him. It had been several days since we had been able to be together at night. Janick sat, one leg up on the wall, one arm wrapped around his knee while the other held his beer, his hair sun bleached from working outdoors and almost pure gold in the bright sunlight. I spoke without thinking of the potential consequences of what I was going to say.  
"Your music, Jan," He had recently asked me to call him Jan, saying that is what his childhood friends had called him, "it's about a lot of things, isn't it?"  
He looked a little puzzled by the abrupt change in our conversation, but nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is."  
"But to a great extent, it's about love. About being in love. Jan...." I was faltering now but I had already started and was not going to back down now, "what are your feelings about that?"  
"About my music?" he frowned a bit, even more puzzled.  
"No......about love."  
A very brief look of something I couldn't identify passed through his eyes and was gone before I could take back my words. "I'm not sure what you mean, Bruce. If you are asking if I believe love exists, then yes, I do."  
"I never believed it. I loved my Father, I love Mother, but I........I had never before been in love. Not the kind of love the poets and musicians write of. "  
I fell silent then, I had dug myself a hole by speaking without thinking and now I didn't know how to get out of it, But to my relief, Jan smiled his gentle, sweet smile.  
"Neither had I. But that has changed. " He put his leg down from the wall and moved nearer to me, taking my hand in the concealed space between where we sat. It had become second nature to us now to be secretive even though we were in a concealed area and no one could see us.  
I knew, then. I knew he felt the same about me as I did about him. Something in my expression must have betrayed this realization, because Jan tightened his hand around mine.  
"I am in love with you, Bruce."  
"And I with you." My voice came out softer than my usual tone, but I returned his smile. "I am in love with you and I do not care what that makes me in the eyes of the world."  
"It makes you a man in love." he replied quietly. "It makes us two people in love. That is all that matters." 

With a quick look around, seeing nothing but trees and fields, Jan leaned and kissed my cheek lightly. I reached up and touched his face, lost in his gray eyes for what felt like an endless moment, overcome with emotions so strong I was unaware of anything except Jan. I lightly ran my hand through his hair, impossibly silky between my fingers, and he squeezed my hand.  
"Come on." I said. I jumped from the wall, pulling him after me. We have a formal maze in the rear of our gardens that I had learned my way through as a child and we walked to it, my leading him inside far enough that I knew we were near the center before I pulled him to me in a kiss. It felt somehow different, less restrained now that we had declared our feelings openly, and as we sank to the grass it was as intense as it always was between us but tender, not as frenzied as it often was when we made love. The warm sun over our heads, the scent of the cedar hedges surrounding us, the soft grass beneath us all combined to make us lose ourselves in one another, not rushing but drawing out our time together with long kisses, loving touches, and murmured words. Now that I had said it I couldn't seem to stop myself and he responded, crying out that he loved me as his legs wrapped around my waist and he reached his climax, followed by my own. I could no longer remember anyone else I had ever fucked, I couldn't even imagine ever wanting anyone else. Janick was my everything.

Janick:

I was happy, truly happy for the first time since I was a small child. On the nights Bruce couldn't visit my room I found myself sitting with my cittern making up love songs in my head, and shortly thereafter Lady Dickinson presented me with a mandolin at one of our weekly music evenings. I hadn't played in several years but after a few evenings of practicing in my room I was able to play it at our next musical evening. Bruce sang more often now on these evenings, his voice becoming less raw, and as from the very first his timing and key were perfect. We discovered more songs we had all heard, and Lady Dickinson was thoroughly entertained by our attempts to remember them as we faltered with the notes and lyrics. She herself had a strong classical repertoire and she would play Mozart or Bach on the harpsichord while Bruce and I sat and worked out the songs we were trying to recall. Gradually, so gradually I almost didn't realize it, I was being treated less as a minstrel and more as a trusted house servant much as Arthur and Agnes, even though I had been at the manor for only six months. My thoughts went back to months before when Lady Dickinson told me that my presence was good for Bruce. That had been long before anything had developed between Bruce and I but now it seemed, if anything, that her approval of my friendship - for such she saw it - with her son was even more pronounced and I would sometimes look up from the strings of my instrument as Bruce strove to remember the lyrics to certain songs to see her beaming at us, a fond expression on her face. She was pleased at the changes in her son's attitude and I knew she somehow attributed them to me. She was right, in a way, but she could not know how right she was.

One night when Bruce managed to come to my room I dared to play for him a song I had written with him in mind. I did not fancy myself a lyricist but Bruce was so often in my thoughts I felt a need of sorts to try to put my feelings into words. It was a love song, but written in such a way it could as well be intended for a woman as for Bruce. 

 

You bring me sunshine, laughter, and smiles  
Like no one I've ever known  
You reached out from nowhere to find me  
and you took my heart as your own  
The sound of your voice is magic  
More than any music I could play  
What I treasure most in life  
is when I hear you say  
that you truly care for me  
More than I've ever hoped to know  
O what joy it brings to say to you  
How I've come to love you so

I had been sitting on the edge of the bed when I sang that for him. It wasn't very good as far as poetry, I knew, but I made the music as beautiful as I could and when I looked up at him I saw his eyes glistening in the light of the candles that lit my room. He didn't speak for a moment, then he reached out, took the mandolin from my hands and lay it aside, them embraced me, Simply embracing me, nothing sexual, not even a kiss, but it conveyed so much feeling that I found that I, too, had tears in my eyes. When we did make love later for the first time Bruce allowed me to take the upper position and I understood that, after his experiences in school, this was the ultimate display of his trust in me. As for me, it gave me a feeling of somehow being a partner, a true partner rather than a subordinate, and I was honored by it. He had never made me feel subordinate in any way, of course, but in the back of my mind my always being in the feminine role made it seem to,  
We lay together afterwards, I was completely drained and collapsed on his chest and my fingers, as always, unconsciously combed idly through his chest hair. I felt him kiss the top of my head.  
"Jan....you won't leave me, will you?" He asked unexpectedly.  
I looked at him in surprise, wondering where that thought had come from. "Of course not, Bruce. Not unless you ask me to."  
He sat up and I sat with him against the wall, for my bed had no headboard. He looked at me in silence for a long moment before speaking. "It is a foolish thought, I know, but I wish we could somehow be bound for life."  
"That isn't foolish at all, and I wish the same. But why can't we, if we wish to? What is such a union other than a promise and an oath to fulfill that promise."  
"You know that most people believe it is a great deal more than that."  
"We are not like most people. I, for one, am prepared to pledge my lifetime to you. If it means living here in the guise of a minstrel or a servant I don't care, as long as I am with you."  
"But that isn't enough!" his voice was still low, but vehement. "You deserve so much more for the happiness you've brought me."  
I leaned and kissed him. I sensed one of his darker moods coming on but by now I had learned how to avert them and help him regain his good humor. "I have everything I want, Bruce, as long as I can stay here with you." I was kissing his chest and toying with his nipples as I said this and, as I hoped, it distracted him. Later, though, after he had to return to his own bed, I couldn't sleep because I understood what he had meant. The Church says love like ours is wrong, society says it is wrong so why, then, does it feel so very right?  
Summer began to fade into autumn and some of the tenant's crops were ready for harvest. This meant Bruce and Arthur had to visit each tenant's holdings to determine what the crops were, what the expected profit may be, and calculate the tenant's rents. Some forty families lived on the estate, a few produced dairy and a few raised sheep for wool but most grew wheat and barley. Because Lady Dickinson was a uniquely benevolent landlady, she requested the more able bodied tenants to help with the harvest of those who were elderly or ailing and quite often I assisted in this as well. It wasn't required of me, but as the grounds keeping was less demanding at this time of year I had the time and volunteered to help. The elderly tenants, especially, often had arthritis and I knew from my own father's struggles that it could be a very painful and debilitating condition. The work was hard, although other neighboring tenants generally helped as well, and between my long hours at this and Bruce's long hours with the bookkeeping aspect of harvest, our time together was frustratingly curtailed. Sometimes he would come to my room and we would simply lay and hold one another, too exhausted physically and mentally for lovemaking but needing the togetherness, needing one another's presence. Our need for one another wasn't merely a physical one. Understandably we had to take a hiatus from swordplay practice, which meant our only real time to be together in any way, even just to talk, was when he was able to visit my room.

Bruce:  
Arthur was getting old, he was surely nearing seventy, and his only real job now was to write down the information I collected for the yearly rents. Mother worked patiently with me and my education was finally of some practical use to me as I learned very quickly. It was difficult to keep my mind from straying to Jan as I worked but I knew that if I finished the calculations and filled the ledgers I may then have an opportunity to see him. I heard his name time and time again as I visited the tenant's holdings. Most did not know he was a minstrel by trade, they knew him simply as the kind hearted young blonde man who unfailingly lent a hand where it was needed, and my heart burst with my love for him upon hearing this. There was never a negative word spoken of him and I overheard more than one young lady ask Arthur if Master Gers was married or spoken for, because of course they dared not ask me. Most of the tenants were unaware that I was not officially the Lord of the Manor, the details of our family arrangements, or lack thereof, upon Father's death were never made public.  
I found, somewhat to my surprise, that the majority of the estate's tenants got on well with me, and I grew to enjoy my interactions with them. I had immense respect for the hard lives they led and the physical labor demanded of them and developed an even greater admiration for my mother upon learning how well they were treated. As harvest progressed I was only able to visit Jan once or twice a week and in spite of the full day's work we both put in, our physical hunger for one another resurfaced and seemed to grow stronger with every touch. We were bold with one another now, daring many things I had not even attempted in the bawdy houses, and Janick's sexual appetite rivaled my own. Even in our most impassioned moments, however, the regard, the fondness, the tenderness we left for one another came through. I would have him bent forward over the bed, my hands clutching his slim hips, mindless with lust as I thrust hard into him time and time again, but beneath it all I was careful not to hurt him, careful to locate the spot within him that sent him into a frenzy and brought about the most tremendous orgasms I had ever witnessed in another person, or in myself as well. Often there were two, even three sessions before we were sated or too exhausted to carry on and once or twice I accidentally fell asleep in his room, cradling him close to me, only to awaken with a start as dawn was breaking and hurrying back to my own chambers before the household staff were stirring. I wanted to badly to stay with him all night every night, to fall asleep and wake with him in my arms, but I knew this would cause disaster and potentially he would be ordered to leave the estate. If that were to ever happen, I knew I would follow him wherever he may go. Nothing in life would keep me from my Janick.

Leaves were turning gold and orange and the bulk of harvest was past us when one day I finished breakfast to be told Mother would like to speak with me in her morning room. I had not seen her the previous day, she had been into Birmingham on what I assumed was estate business, and I anticipated that she was calling me there to share something of that nature with me. I tapped lightly on the door and heard her grant me permission to enter but was surprised to find her not at her desk but sitting on the divan, her expression serious.  
"What is it, Mother? Is there some trouble with the grain sales?" Prices had been fluctuating recently and this was the only reason I could think of for her solemn expression.  
"No, no, nothing like that. Please, sit down, son. "  
I sat on the edge of the chair facing her rather nervously.  
She sat up straighter and reached to the table to the side of the divan, picking up a sheaf of papers I hadn't noticed there. "I'm turning sixty years old this month, Bruce. Up until now I haven't written a will. I suppose, like your father, I was reluctant to face my own mortality. Yesterday I went into the city and met with my solicitors and had my will drawn up. I'd like to go over it with you, if I may."  
I had a sense of foreboding that made it impossible for me to formulate a reply, so I nodded.  
"Bruce, dear, you know that even though you aren't of my blood, you are my son. I've loved you as my own from the very first."  
I swallowed, finding my voice. "I know that, Mother. You are the only mother I've ever known and I love you as such."  
"In short, everything I own will be yours once I pass on. I realize there will be maintenance and repairs but this is partly because I haven't spent money unnecessarily. Other than that, however, there will be no outstanding debts." She smiled at me fondly. "Over the past few months you have shown you are fully capable of handling everything that running this estate entails. "  
She paused then, fiddling with the papers in her hand, and when she spoke again it was in a softer, quieter voice. "When you returned from school I had hoped you would settle down, marry, begin a family of your own. That obviously did not happen."  
My heart froze. Was she going to make my marrying a requirement for the inheritance? If so, I could not accept it. I knew this may hurt her deeply, but I couldn't possibly marry a woman. I loved Janick.  
Mother looked almost uncomfortable, then raised her eyes to meet mine. "I only want you to be happy, Bruce. It is all your father and I ever wanted for you. And I sense you are happy. It practically shines from your eyes, you cannot hide it even when you try. And I know that you do try."  
I waited in trepidation. What was she trying to say. At that moment, a discreet knock sounded and Agnes peeked in.  
"You requested to see Master Gers, Madam?"  
Mother nodded, and Agnes stepped aside. Janick entered hesitantly, looking every bit as perplexed as I felt.  
"Please, sit down Master Janick. What I have to say concerns you as well as Bruce."  
Jan and I exchanged a fearful look, but he sat in the chair near mine.  
Mother took on a brisk air now. "As I was saying, Bruce, I only want you to be happy. I ask that you have a partner in life to stand with you and help you run the estate once I am gone, though I hope that will not be for many years." Suddenly Mother smiled and reached forward, one hand touching my knee and one touching Jan's.  
"My boys, I am growing old but I am not blind. I can see the regard you two hold for one another." Her voice lowered and she leaned toward us. "I know you two love one another dearly. I can see it in both your eyes whenever you are together, even if you as much as glance in the others direction. I understand this, I had this same connection with his Lordship. And I want you, both of you, to know I approve of what you have between you. And I haven't a care about what anyone outside our family may say, it is no one else's concern! I care only that Bruce is happy, and you, Janick, make him happy."  
Jan and I looked at one another in complete astonishment. We hadn't believed we had been so obvious! And never would we have expected that Mother, of all people, would recognize our feelings for one another, let alone approve.  
Jan was the first to speak. "Your ladyship......"  
Mother interrupted him. "Janick, if you are my son's partner you need not be so formal. Please call me Lady Caroline."  
Jan cleared his throat. "L...lady Caroline, I will not deny it. I love Bruce very much. I am in love with him, and I believe he is with me."  
"I am." I broke in. "Very much so."  
Janick smiled tenderly at me, then continued. "But I need to know you understand....."  
Mother held up her hand. "I understand a great deal more than you think. Bruce, dear, I am aware of your visits to Janick's rooms in the night! I realize what this means about the nature of your love but please understand, I am not shocked or scandalized! You two have found something rare and beautiful and I want you to know that you do not have to be so secretive, at least not with me. Many, probably most, others would be outraged and I ask that you be discreet in the presence of the staff. But knowing you are not going to be alone, Bruce, assures me that you are, indeed, up to the challenges of being lord of Dickinson Manor. And," she smiled, blushing a little, "I do not think it would be viewed with suspicion if Janick were promoted to the position of your personal assistant, entitling him to move into the chambers adjoining yours."  
Mother then stood and moved over to me, leaning and brushing my forehead with a kiss. Then, to his complete embarrassment, she knelt and brushed a kiss to Janick's cheek as well. "You are family now, Janick. And I welcome you."

 

THE END


End file.
